Confessions Of A Teenage Assassin
by StormAlchemist677
Summary: Blood Gore NO YAOI Sean is a survivor of the Eastern Rebellion imprisoned afterward for the crime of existing, Now the military wants to make a deal he gets out and all he has to do is kill someone if only that some one wasn't an alchemic serial killer
1. Prologue 1: The Eastern War

**Disclaimer: **I do not own FMA, manga based

**Genre:** Adventure/Drama

**Characters:**OC anyone I can cram in

**Pairings:** None that I'm planning

**Author's Note:**Yeah this is a redo of the story Why Me? it was originally going to be a lot more serious and a lot less stupid than it turned out. Anyway I've made a lot of plot changes, my OC lives in Amestris to start with and he's not an alchemist. Ummmm.... I know I was gonna say something else but I forgot what it was..... shit oh well TO THE STORY!!!

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_In the late 1890s the nation of Ishval- a small mostly unknown neighbor of the larger state of Amestris- due to economic difficulties requested that the Amestrian government officially annex the nation of Ishval. Needless to say the Fuhrer of Amestris and the High Command of the Amestrian State Military were more than happy to oblige._

_At first everything went well the State Military sent soldiers and alchemists to bring resources and economic aid, and many Ishvalans moved out of their homeland and into the larger eastern area of Amestris, Ishvalans became a large part of everyday Amestrian society starting businesses, industries, and even holding high-ranking positions in the State Military._

_However as a result of the widespread religion of Ishval tensions between the Ishvalans and the military began to rise. Among the many beliefs of the religion was that alchemy- because of the rearranging of the natural form of an object- was a blasphemy to the god Ishvala and all that he had created._ _Over the next few years tensions rose and fell, until one year during a street riot an unfortunate soldier accidentally fired his weapon killing an Ishvalan child. While under normal circumstances this incident would have ended with a mourning family and an imprisoned soldier, the death of the child was exactly the spark needed to detonate the proverbial powder keg._

_Entire divisions of the State Military were sent into Ishval and promptly crushed by the determined resistance, as the death count piled up the military High Command made a two pronged decision to purge the Military of all Ishvalans and to unleash the State Military's ultimate weapons, the State Alchemists._

_As war devastated Ishval violence began to spread throughout the entire Eastern sector of Amestris. Ishvalans and Amestrians some up to that point neighbors or friends began to fight and kill each other as the increasingly disturbing rumors from Ishval continued to indicate something more sinister than a simple insurrection. As violence spread across the East, towns were wiped off the map and villages disappeared as though never there, cities once filled with towering buildings and teeming masses were reduced to crushed piles of blood-soaked rubble. _

_A worse fate was endured by those few who escaped the mass battles, starvation was a constant problem, and both sides routinely practiced torture, those who were alone never lived long. The only way to survive was to find a group to take you in, and to become as hard, callous, and unfeeling as everyone else. _

_It took several years after the official end of the Ishvalan Rebellion to get the rest of the East under control. Thousands of Ishvalans and half-Ishvalans immigrated to other countries away from the prejudice that would haunt them here. In the meantime the numbers of the State Military fluctuated wildly, as many soldiers who fought in Ishval decided against reenlistment or ate their pistols, and were replaced by the new generation, people who had known nothing but death and violence and had no patience, or no desire to learn anything else. As the years passed the numbers grew smaller, but still month after month hundreds of "civilian veterans" of the Rebellion flocked to recruitment centers across the war-torn East... _


	2. Prologue 2: No Time To Think

**Disclaimer: **I do not own FMA, manga based

**Genre:** Adventure/Drama

**Characters:**OC anyone I can cram in

**Pairings:**None that I'm planning

**Author's Note: **this chapter is Stream of conciousness so it may get confusing

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Normally I'd try to talk my way out of this kinda situation. But the fact that these assholes are waving knives, not to mention the new cut on my face seems to suggest that they aren't feeling real chatty at the moment. I sigh irritably now I wish I hadn't put my gun in a zipped gym bag, it would have made resolving this situation so much faster and easier. Note to self: Not having your gun at easy access... yeah stupid and liable to get you killed, I should have learned this lesson years ago, Mom would kill me for that kind of stupidity; if she was still around to that is.

One of the idiots in front of me says something to the effect of 'Give us your stuff and we won't hurt you'... What a fuckhead like anyone with an IQ above 10 would believe that. I almost feel sorry for these pathetic amateurs, almost being the operative word. Not only have they pissed me off, they're too stupid to live, you never attack all from one direction, you never relax while your opponent is on his feet, and you never _ever _leave him alive you kill him and _then_ you take his stuff, these guys would have lasted about ten seconds in the Rebellion but not much longer.

There's five of them hardly a fair fight, they aren't even trained, whatever let's get this over with it's a long walk to Central and I only have so much cash. Time to drop my bags they'll only get in the way. Hah! One of those retards is going for them right now this will be even easier than I thought.

I take a step forward, feeling the adrenaline rush and... time warps, at least that's as close as I can describe it. It's like all of a sudden they are moving in slow-mo and I'm moving normally. Still no time to think-- people die from that in combat.

Duck that knife, idiot has no clue what he's doing. Punch him in the throat, just felt something go crunch. Shit the rest are charging... No time to think...

One step back, kick that guy in the knee, damn I heard that break.

Leap forward... avoid another knife, grab his face yank-- hard, there went the bastards neck.

Go for another... ignore him, crushed larynx he's a dead man walking.

Grab his knife hand bend his arm... forgot what breaking bone sounds like... gunshots.

There got a knife this will be over in a minute....

I look around carefully, good, no more. Stare for a moment at the bodies, slashed throats, shards of bone punching through skin, one guy has a hole in the back of his head blood and lumps of grayish-purple brain matter leaking from it. I go over to the side and empty my stomach, what the hell? I haven't thrown up from something like this in years not since I was a kid. The surgery that must be it, the surgery screwed with my emotions somehow. That would also explain why hospitals scare me now and the claustrophobia, it must unhinged me somehow... No! no I am not crazy... I'm not I'm just going through a rough time, I'll make it though, and once I find them the people who did this to me_ will_ pay.

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So whaddaya think too confusing? Don't worry all wil be made clear... eventually


	3. Need A Ride?

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing I don't even own this computer

Oh yeah: talking; _thinking_

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Riza Hawkeye was in a fairly good mood. Considering she was driving back to Central from an inspection this was a pretty novel experience. She wasn't sure if her luck was just bad or if this was the way all inspections went, but normally she would go through a facility- usually run by an obnoxious stuck-up idiot who hadn't seen a shower in far too long- find about a hundred issues, be told by the idiot who ran the damn place they didn't matter. Following this she would state her intentions to go over his head, turn the report in to High Command, and be told by _another_ bunch of stuck up idiots it didn't really matter. Generally this prompted her to wonder, (always in four-letter terms, and fairly often quite loudly) what the hell was the point of these Christ-forsaken inspections anyway?

However for once the guy who ran the facility she had been ordered to inspect was polite, reasonably intelligent, and listened to her suggestions. At this point she didn't even care whether he bothered putting any into practice, this already was the best inspection she had ever had to do.

Hawkeye saw an exit sign for a gas station and decided to stop car needed gas not to mention it was ten at night and she really needed coffee if she was going to make the rest of the two hour drive back to Central.

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Hawkeye leaned back in her seat taking a large gulp of coffee and sighing with pleasure, that hit the spot. She drank about half of her remaining coffee before starting the car. As she pulled out of the gas station she turned up her radio, she smiled as she recognized Vertigo by U2 and began tapping the wheel to the rhythm. As Hawkeye turned onto the highway she was drinking her coffee, listening to the radio, and trying to keep an eye on the road at the same time, as a result she only missed hitting the figure walking on the side of the road by about six inches.

She swore angrily, half at herself for not paying attention, half at whoever the person was for walking on a highway. She backed up to see if she had done any damage, and was promptly shocked _'Ed'..._

No wait it wasn't Ed this guy looked a little like him in the dark, but once he got a bit closer she realized despite a similar build he was at least two inches taller than Ed. He had long brown hair, though the style was similar to Ed's he was obviously not particularly careful abut how he kept it out of the way, his hair was in a low ponytail that looked like whoever had done it had been sleeping at the time. He was wearing a pair of cargo pants above heavy combat boots, keeping up the theme he wore an olive drab combat jacket which looked to be a size or two, too large for him. Oddly despite the fact that it wasn't all that cold out he wore a scarf wrapped around his neck as though determined to show no more skin than necessary, to finish off the look he had on a pair of fingerless black leather gloves and a backwards black baseball cap, all in all if it weren't for the backpack and gym bag he carried he would have looked like a guy on his way to a rock concert who got lost.

Hawkeye opened the passenger side window, "Hey are you alright?" she called.

The kid shook himself slightly as though trying to clear his head and walked over to the car. In the five or so feet he walked Hawkeye saw he was limping, not like an injury but more like he was footsore. He leaned down to look through the window "Yeah," he replied just loud enough to be heard over the little traffic there was, "I'm okay, are you?" he asked looking slightly puzzled.

Hawkeye stared a moment nonplussed she had been the one in the car if he had gotten hit she wouldn't have suffered very much damage, "I'm fine," she said slowly, "you do realize I came about half a foot from flattening you right?"

The kid looked almost comically surprised, "No I didn't, maybe it's time to knock off for the night, thanks a lot." He turned to leave.

"Hey wait," Hawkeye shouted she had no clue why she was doing this must be this good mood she was in, or maybe she felt guilty, "Do you need a lift? Where are you going?"

He turned around "Central!" he shouted back.

She grinned, "That's where I'm going get in."

He hopped into the car and tossed his bags in the backseat with a dull thud and a clank respectively, before slamming his door. "Thanks a lot," he said "I really appreciate this."

"No problem," she replied holding out her hand, "Riza Hawkeye."

He grasped her hand, to her slight uneasiness she felt shooter's calluses on his fingers, where would he get those? this kid was not military.

"Nice to meet you, name's Sean Ryder."

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There we go chapter 3 up! reviews would nice folks. Oh yeah I don't know why but I feel like Hawkeye would be a big U2 fan dont ask why I also think Ed would like Children Of Bodom and Roy would be into Nickelback it's totally irrational but that's how I roll


	4. Flashbacks

**Disclaimer:**No I don't own FMA but thanks for asking

**A/N: **multiple flashbacks sorry

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"So" Riza began "What's in Central?"

Sean grinned impudently, "Lots of things" he replied. Then he continued more seriously, "More importantly Military HQ is there, they've got a job for me see."

Riza glanced over, now her curiosity was piqued, "And what kind of job would that be?"

Sean gave her a slightly rueful look, "The kind I'm not allowed to talk about, let's just say I've got skills that are... unique."

"Skills you got during the Eastern Rebelllion?"

_Flashback_

_He shook his head trying to clear the ringing in his ears watching a fine spray of crimson fly from his scalp. His breath came hard, that explosion had been way too close. He ran over to Josh who was sitting against a half crumbled wall with his mouth open, told him to stay down in a voice he still couldn't hear. Sean tossed a grenade over the wall dropping and waiting for the blast, when he sat up again he could hear again. Hear why his best friend's mouth was open. Sean looked over to find out why Josh was screaming his head off and saw Josh holding long bloody lengths of sausage in his lap. It took Sean a moment to realize they were intestines that Josh was holding his own guts in his lap. Sean stared stunned not even aware of the mixture of blood and tears running down his own face, this wasn't supposed to happen, they were supposed to make it through this fucking war together. Now Josh was going to die screaming in some pissant little town nobody had ever cared about before and nobody would care about again. Sean shook his head no Josh wouldn't die screaming he'd do the right thing no matter how much it hurt._

_Sean raised his gun, "I'm so sorry..." and squeezed the trigger._

_End Flashback_

"I suppose you could say I got some skills in the Rebellion," Sean said a touch bitterly, "How did you figure it out?"

Riza shrugged, "You've got the look, and you're definitely too young to have served in Ishval. Where have you been since then?"

"Oh here and there," Sean replied evasively.

_Flashback_

_General Hakuro took a deep breath and walked into one of the most unpleasant places on earth: Amestrian State Asylum For The Criminally Insane. One of the facility guards saluted "Sir the prisoner is already in the room and is of course fully restrained."_

_"Very good," Hakuro replied as he walked into the interview room. In front of him was a long metal table and at the end was a boy, maybe 16 or 17 chained to it. _

_"Sean Ryder I presume?" Hakuro said as he sat down opposite him._

_The slight teen looked up, "Now why would you presume a dumb thing like that" he said rhetorically voice hoarse from disuse "I don't have a name, I don't exist remember?"_

_Hakuro winced at the accusing note in the teens voice, "You know I voted in your favor," he protested._

_"And you know that means exactly dick," Sean snapped, "As it is that's the only reason I'm talking to you, that and the fact that if we take long enough I can shower without having to inflict compound fractures to avoid being gang raped, you'd think they would learn the first few times they saw their bones sticking out." Sean sighed wearily "You know I didn't do anything, I'm just another dirty little secret it's not like that's going to change so what do you want?"_

_Hakuro leaned forward "What would you say if I said you could get out of here?"_

_Sean grinned "Out of this shithole? Who do I have to kill?"_

_Hakuro slid a photo across the table "This guy."_

_"That was a figure of speech," Sean muttered glancing at the photo "What'd he do?"_

_Hakuro folded his arms leaning back, "he's a serial killer who targets State Alchemists he's killed eight already including a few you should recognize, Sewing-Life, Silver, Iron-Blood..._

_Sean raised his eyebrows the equivalent of recoiling in shock from anyone else, "He took down Gran? I thiought that guy never got hit by bullets because they took one look and flew the other way... what are they calling this guy?"_

_"Scar"_

_Sean glanced at the photo again, "Our beloved media is as creative as ever it seems... so my side of this is kill this guy so now my terms huh?_

_Hakuro gave an amused grin "You're hardly in a position to bargain."_

_"You're hardly in a position to be choosy," Sean retorted, "after all you seem to be here in an official capacity which means I'm the last resort right?"_

_"Close enough" Hakuro relented "One other guy got considered but since he **is** a psychotic murderer and you aren't... what are your terms?"_

_Sean leaned back to think "First I want pardon for whatever trumped up charges got me here, in other words as long as I don't break the law I stay out."_

_Hakuro nodded "Alright anything else?"_

_Sean grinned "You have no idea, I'm gonna milk this for all it's worth, I want permission to hunt down the bastard who put me here, I want five thousand big ones once I'm outta here, I want a commission as an officer in the Military, and I want a week from release to get to Central."_

_Hakuro shook his head slightly, "You don't ask for little things do you?... Alright that can all be arranged but first what's the money for?"_

_Sean shrugged, "Mostly specialized equipment that the military doesn't provide, after all you want me to assassinate this guy, so I intend to do it right, other than that I like sleeping in a bed as opposed to the street. So we have a deal?_

_Hakuro stood up and nodded "Deal"_

_End Flashback_

"Let's just leave it at unpleasant places" Sean said.

"Good enough I guess," Riza replied as they drove through Central "anywhere in particular you want to be dropped off?"

"If you know of a decent hotel..."

"Yeah" Riza pulled up next to the nearest hotel to Headquarters, "have a good night."

Sean stepped out "Thanks for the ride, maybe I'll see ya 'round."

"Maybe" Riza sort of doubted it, but her curiosity was certainly piqued by this kid, speculating idly about her mysterious hitchhiker's past she drove home.

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Wow longer than normal as always read and review please please please!


	5. Beginning A Long Week

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FMA

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Riza walked into the office to greetings from her coworkers.

"So how was the inspection?" Havoc said slightly teasingly, knowing exactly how she felt about such things, "anything interesting happen?"

Riza gave him an amused glance "Actually," she replied "for once it went well, and as for interesting... well I picked up a hitchhiker does that count?"

At that moment Ed walked into the room "You!" he said in shock "you picked up a hitchhiker?!"

Riza rolled her eyes, "You'd think I was evil the way you say it."

Ed shook his head, "That's not it at all, it's just that you hear things about hitchhikers." He grinned creepily "I heard a story where someone hitchhiked their way across the country killing people as he went..."

Roy Mustang poked his head out of his office "You just watched The Hitcher you idiot, now do you have a report for me short stuff or are you just here to plagiarise bad movies?"

Ed stomped into Roy's office swearing about Bastard Colonels and slamming the door behind him. Hawkeye sighed that door had taken a lot of abuse over the years especially since Ed got here, she wondered how much longer it would last.

"So," Havoc said, "What's your hitchhiker doing in Central?"

"No idea," Hawkeye replied with an air of closing the subject, "he wasn't very talkative."

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What Sean was doing at that moment was wondering what he had done to deserve the height of five foot three. He had never really thought about his height (or lack thereof) before but at the moment he was finding it quite irritating. When Sean had arrived at General Hakuro's office that morning it was to learn that before he could do any work on the Scar case at all he would be put through a week of Special Ops training. While this training had plenty of more interesting things like target shooting, storming buildings, and things like that, it also had standard fare for any military training. Such as push-ups, crunches, and Sean's current source of woe... chin-ups. Why were chin-ups so horrible? Mainly because Sean knew exactly how stupid he would look jumping up to grab the bar. To make matters worse the partner he was with 'til training was over: Deborah Mills, alias D was, a) five inches taller than him rather embarassing considering she was only a year older, and b) far worse, had decided that someone so tiny needed a mother, albeit an insane and very suggestive one. No Sean had never really thought about his terminal shortness before, but he was sure as hell thinking about it now.

"If ya need help I c'n lift ya to reach the bar."

Sean glared furiously before jumping to grab the bar, "Go fuck yourself D."

D put on a mock thoughtful look, "Actually that doesn't sound like a half-bad idea it's been months since I had any action... now where did I leave that vibrator?"

Sean groaned all the way through his tenth pull-up he _so_ did not need to hear this. Think about something else, _anything _else. Only a week of training that's it. Maybe after this was over he could see Lieutenant Hawkeye again, she seemed nice... and pretty hot. No wait shut up, he was _not_ a pervert, he was not a pervert... Ah fuck it he was a pervert. However Sean decided, he was also seventeen and at that age thoroughly entitled to be exactly as perverted as he wanted, and seeing as the person he was thinking about was over the age of eighteen and female it wasn't so bad really. D was saying something, "What!" he said irritably.

"Well first of all," D grinned, "I c'n see the dirty thoughts floatin' 'round inside your head."

Sean's only reply was to sputter incoherently, sounding something like a teapot boiling over.

D's grin grew so wide it was a wonder her face didn't split open, "Ya can always tell when guys are thinkin' dirty things there's just this look on their faces ya know what I'm sayin'? Oh and by the way ya did twelve pull-ups more 'n ya needed to."

Sean did three more to reach an even fifteen extra, "I did that on purpose," he said with an air of injured dignity, the effect was slightly ruined by the massive rush of blood to his face.

"Sure ya did..."

This was going to be the longest week of his life.

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Please review please... I'm dying here c'mon! btw a poll should I go through his week of training or skip it? ur choice not gonna update til I have at least five reviews


	6. I'm An Alcoholic

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA

Author's Note: Yeah I know long wait despite the fact I've gotten a grand total of two reviews (one of which given for the sole purpose of pissing me off) I'm gonna keep writing this mainly because I want to... but that doesn't mean you people are off the hook I still want reviews... pleeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaasssse?!

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D stared down at her training partner from the top bunk still shaking her head in slight astonishment, she still wasn't sure she believed what had happened earlier. Over the past few days she had noticed that, in general Sean was a pretty calm person with a very long fuse. So understandably she had been just a little surprised when he had, very calmly, inflicted serious enough injuries on another recruit to hospitalize him for a few weeks. The other recruit, some guy everyone called Asshole (there was a good reason for that and it wasn't because he had a big butt) had called her a whore, at which point Sean promptly went medieval on him. When the instructors arrived, everyone said that Asshole had fallen down the stairs, she was pretty sure the insructors hadn't believed them, maybe it was the distinct lack of stairs in that area. When she asked Sean about it later, he had just shrugged and said he'd have done the same thing for any of his friends, but seeing as the only things Sean did in his spare time were reading, sleeping, and more training, D didn't think he had many other friends.

Sean had been dropping a lot of hints about what exactly he was signing up to do, D was pretty sure he was supposed to kill somebody... _specific_. Whoever it was D almost felt sorry for them, they weren't going to know what hit them.

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General Hakuro gave Sean a disapproving look, Sean did not unfortunately look very intimidated, he looked if anything amused. "Let me get this straight," Hakuro said, "You tried to kill a fellow trainee?"

"Of course not sir," Sean replied altogether too innocently, "he fell down the stairs."

"Uh-huh... off the record then?" Hakuro asked dryly.

Sean snorted, "If I wanted him dead he'd be dead, furthermore he had it coming, if I hadn't done it, it would have happened anyway, sooner or later."

Hakuro sighed, "Fine then I'll let it slide, however now that you are being assigned to a unit, I don't want to hear about anything like this again understood?"

Sean nodded his assent. Hakuro sighed again drawing his hand over his face, this situation was going to bite him in the ass later he just knew it. "Alright," he said, "You're being given a commission as a Captain, I'm assigning you to Colonel Mustang's staff, he and one of his subordinates are the two most valuable State Alchemists in the Military... and the two Scar wants to kill most, your job is both to kill Scar and to keep him from killing them."

Sean finally looked uncomfortable, "Um... they're State Alchemists I think they can take care of themselves, at the very least they will be very irritated at the implication that they can't." He stopped as Hakuro gave him a stern look, "fine then, I'll do it but don't tell them about my job, at least not that aspect."

Hakuro rolled his eyes, "Of course not, your entire mission is top secret, I'm not going to assign you with the title 'Assassin' under specialty, you're going to be a Tech Specialist."

"Uhhh in civilian?"

"A mechanic," Hakuro said irritably, "you're going to have to learn military jargon fast, you know that right?"

"Yeah yeah, if it makes you feel better I already have the profanity down pat."

"This kid just keeps getting better and better," Hakuro muttered, "Alright lets go meet your new CO and most of his staff."

"Most?"

"One of them is on vacation, the other is MIA," Hakuro replied carelessly, as they walked towards the briefing room.

Sean gave him a sharp look, "Literally or figuratively?"

Hakuro simply grinned at him as they stepped into the briefing room, "Good morning Colonel, Lieutenants, Sergeant, Colonel this is the new addition to your staff I was telling you about."

Sean stepped forward and nodded to his new CO and said, to Hakuro's eternal mortification, "Hey, I'm Sean Ryder and I'm an alcoholic." 


	7. Still Here

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA

Author's Note: Yeah I know long wait despite the fact I've gotten a grand total of two reviews (one of which given for the sole purpose of pissing me off) I'm gonna keep writing this mainly because I want to... but that doesn't mean you people are off the hook I still want reviews... pleeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaasssse?!

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Roy Mustang gave his newest subordinate a considering look, to be completely honest he was very happy to have the mechanic on his staff. Mustang as a Colonel was responsible for a battalion, roughly a thousand soldiers, and unfortunately the battalion's motor pool had been neglected for some time. After Captain Ryder's initial inspection (during which Roy had rapidly learned of his subordinate's colorful vocabulary), he had begun to wade through the sea of paperwork associated with the pool. Despite everything Roy had implied about Ed's height he had never actually had enough paperwork to mask his presence. Now Roy was standing in front of Sean's desk and all he could see was paper, the only thing advertising his presence was the sound of muffled swearing, all Roy could think was 'Better you than me kid.'

"Well if you need anything I'll be in my office," Roy said.

If you hear yelling don't worry," Sean replied sarcastically, "it'll just be me being smothered to death under paper."

Roy grinned, "I'll remember that," this kid was _sooo_ much easier to deal with than Fullmetal. Same foul mouth, but no rants, no tantrums, and best of all the kid just didn't get pissed, all the way back from the motor pool Roy had been making jokes more than a few at Sean's expense, but Sean had laughed at those just like the rest. Although now that Roy thought about a few of Sean's responses he realized he had made a lot of roundabout remarks about Roy's sex life... or lack thereof. Whatever this kid was easier to deal with, that was good enough.

* * *

Sean was just slightly irritated, he would much rather be hunting than screwing with engines, hunting his mark that is. He didn't give a shit who this Scar guy was or what he could do, nothing was going to stand in the way of freedom, at least it wouldn't stand in his way and remain intact... or alive for that matter. And then there was the little matter of his 'friend' Dr. Martin, that guy he intended to take his time with. All the same it wasn't all bad, it was nice to live a kinda normal life. And despite his mental complaints he really enjoyed working with machines, in fact he hoped a tank broke down just so he could get a chance to see how they ticked. Now all he needed was to be playing around with high explosives then it would be just like the old days, now THAT was a rush. Oh he had heard stories about that crazy alchemist who liked to blow people up, he was nothing like that, he'd never tried to blow up people and he'd definitely not liked it when he did. But... actually building the bomb, that was amazing, feeling your heart pounding out of your chest, your face pouring sweat, knowing the smallest mistake could kill you, it got him higher than any drug, every time.

Sean was startled out of his reverie by Havoc's fingers snapping under his nose. Havoc had never seen anyone move so fast, Sean was out of his chair and in a fighting stance so rapidly he blurred. "Whoa," Havoc said quickly raising his hands, "I'm sorry didn't mean to make you mad."

Sean stared a moment before relaxing and grinning sheepishly, "Damn I guess it's true what they say about old habits, I'll try not to let it happen again, what was it you wanted?"

"I wanted to know if you wanted any coffee I was gonna go get some," Havoc replied sounding relieved.

"Yeah, thanks."

Riza relaxed, satisfied that Havoc wasn't going to get killed, still this was strange, the Rebellion ended seven years ago. But Sean had acted the way she, Mustang, and Havoc had acted for a few months afterward Ishval, he should be fine by now. She watched Sean out of the corner of her eye for the rest of the day, she couldn't help but notice, though he seemed cheerful enough when other people were talking to him, when left alone his features lapsed into depression.

* * *

Sean threw his keys on the table of his hastily furnished apartment. He collapsed onto his sofa and sighed, rubbing at his face. Was he doomed to act like that the rest of his life? Almost kill anyone who so much as touched him? He was so tired of this, if he actually believed in god, he would have said that god was having a laugh at his expense right now, sadistic bastard that he was. Sean pulled one of his twin handguns out of its underarm holster. Leather grips, gunmetal plating, ten millimeter semi-automatic, a perfect little instrument of death. He wondered how much it hurt, not being shot, that had happened a few times, but a headshot, the wound that snuffs out all thought, all life. He placed the gun to his temple, tightened his grip on the trigger... and laughed bitterly, putting the gun back in its holster, if there was some being laughing at him, he wasn't going to give it the satisfaction of knowing it had won. Sure he had lost the game in almost every way possible, but he was still here and that was worth a few points.


	8. Long Story

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA

Author's Note: Yeah I know long wait despite the fact I've gotten a grand total of two reviews (one of which given for the sole purpose of pissing me off) I'm gonna keep writing this mainly because I want to... but that doesn't mean you people are off the hook I still want reviews... pleeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaasssse?!

* * *

_Everything was black, the air was close, stale, suffocating. He turned his head slightly moving his nose out of the soil surrounding him, instantly the reek of death and corruption hit him like a kick in the gut, leaving him momentarily breathless. He coughed and choked on the stench and the dirt he had inhaled, the fit went on until he wondered absentmindedly if this was how he was going to die. Then the coughing subsided, he wasn't sure where he was only that it stank, it was dark, and there was something very hard sticking into his back. He shifted slightly trying to get off whatever it was, and froze when his hand fell on something soft, fabric. He tried to get his hand into his pocket and after several fruitless attempts and much mumbled cursing, he managed to extract a lighter. He flicked it several times and finally it caught, there was earth above him, and earth to the left, he turned to the right and found himself not an inch away from the pale glazed eyes of a corpse._

Sean woke up screaming.

* * *

Sean walked into the office about a week after he had started looking like utter crap. Riza glanced up as she heard his usual pre-coffee round of cursing to see someone who definitely didn't look like the Sean she was used to. It shouldn't have been possible but he actually looked like he had shrunk, though from the way he was slumping that was probably an illusion. His normally pale face was just short of chalk colored, the usual dark circles under his eyes were dramatically darkened until they looked like grease stains. The actual whites of his eyes were bloodshot the veins standing out prominently, if it weren't for the fact that she didn't smell liquor on the air, she would have said he was suffering from the hangover of the century.

Sean was not in fact suffering from a hangover but it sure as hell felt like one. Last night he had just experienced the most vivid flashback ever. It had taken him the better part of an hour to stop puking and dry-heaving, after which he had promptly punched a wall in frustration, now he was exhausted, felt like puking, his head was pounding, and his knuckles were split open, in addition to his usual... issues, happy happy joy joy. He walked over to the coffee-maker and poured himself a cup, promptly gulping all the scalding contents down before pouring himself another one, he walked over to his desk and removed a bottle of aspirin from the drawer eating (yes as in chewing before swallowing) six pills straight, he guzzled his second cup of coffee in as many minutes and walked over to pour himself a third. Jean Havoc cleared his throat, "Um Sean... are you feeling okay?" Sean favored him with a red-eyed glare before turning back to his coffee. "Okay dumb question," Havoc mumbled.

At that moment the office door burst open with the sound like it had just made contact with a battering ram, coincidentally this wasn't to far off, Sean moaned as the sound sent, not needles, but fucking pickaxes straight through his poor head. Ed stopped just as he was about to begin his customary rant about Bastard Colonels, "Who's that guy?"

"Don't mind me I'm just dying here," Sean groaned.

Riza looked up, "Edward this is Sean Ryder, as of last week he's been put in charge of our motor pool, Sean this... if you're going to throw-up could you not do it in the coffee?"

Sean shot her a glare as well, "I'm not going to puke dammit!" With that he promptly paled further, something they wouldn't have believed possible and vomited directly in Havoc's trashcan. Considering he didn't move from his spot two feet away this was a bit of an accomplishment. "Holy Crap!" Ed burst out, as Havoc jumped backwards.

Sean wiped his mouth and smirked weakly, "Yeah I know good aim, I'm a talented individual."

Ed stared a moment before hesitantly grinning back, "That wasn't exactly what I had in mind but yeah that was pretty impressive!"

"What the hell is with men!" Hawkeye rather uncharacteristically burst out, "you bond over the most disgusting things! Belching, farting, drunkenness, and puking!"

Sean grabbed his coffee and swished it in his mouth before swallowing, "Sorry about that guys, I kinda had a rough night, insomnia and all that, and then a migraine just to add injury to insult."

Hawkeye sighed, "Edward the Colonel is ready for you, Sean if you throw-up again your going home, got it?"

Sean nodded, as Ed visibly steeled himself to enter Mustang's office, Alphonse who had fallen behind came in at that moment. "Hi everyone I hope brother hasn't... Oh who are you?"

"Sean Ryder the new guy," Sean replied, "nice to meet you... do you hear something?"

Al looked nervous, interesting for a suit of armor, "No of course not!"

"Are you sure? Like a scratchy kinda metal sound?"

Ed stiffened, "Al....."

Al didn't even wait for Ed to finish, "You're inhuman brother!!!" He ran out of the room clanking loudly.

Sean stared in bemusement, "Well that was harsh..."

Ed sighed, "Long story," he said as he walked into Mustang's office, kicking open the door to the usual collective wince.

* * *

Well the ending was a little weak but I couldn't think of a way to end it


	9. The Nature of Reality

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA

Author's Note: Yeah I know long wait despite the fact I've gotten a grand total of two reviews (one of which given for the sole purpose of pissing me off) I'm gonna keep writing this mainly because I want to... but that doesn't mean you people are off the hook I still want reviews... pleeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaasssse?!

* * *

Ed walked out of Mustang's office grinning smugly, he'd finally won a fight with the bastard, and the look of horror on the old man's face was _sooo_ worth the short jokes. To think Mustang had to _pay_ Havoc's last girlfriend to go out with him, Ed had meant it as a cheap shot he hadn't realized it was actually true, fucking_ priceless_.

Riza glanced up as he walked out, "Your brother said to tell you he was going home for awhile."

Ed shifted a bit guiltily, " Guess he's still mad at me," he looked around the office for a moment, "Where'd that new guy go?"

Havoc looked up, "He said something about seducing officers of the female persuasion, his actual words no joke," he replied grinning.

Hawkeye rolled her eyes, "Try the range, if he's not there the motor pool." She had to admit even if Sean probably wasn't the _best _influence on Ed she was glad to see him hanging out with people his own age.

Ed nodded, "Thanks lieutenant, oh yeah Havoc? Next time you date someone try a girl who isn't real interested in money." With that sage advice Ed walked out the door leaving a thoroughly confused Havoc in his wake.

* * *

Sean sighted down the barrel of his gun, as usual picturing his target as a certain so-called doctor, who had reneged on his Hypocritic Oath, or was that Hypocratic Oath he thought grinning cynically he never could remember. Sean emptied his gun into the target, and gave it a quick glance before nodding in a satisfied manner and reloading. People told him he should wear eye and ear protection in a range, but he figured after a mortar round went off next to him, he really didn't need to worry about hearing loss, if that didn't make him deaf a couple of pistol shots certainly wouldn't.

As he continued slotting rounds into his magazine, he heard boots clunking behind him. "Hello Major Elric," he said loudly.

"What Captain?"

Sean turned and saw a twitchy looking Corporal staring at him after retrieving his gun, "What the- never mind."

The Corporal walked out a bit more quickly than he came in thoroughly confused. Sean continued loading his clip and again heard footsteps behind him, "Hello Major Elric."

Ed stopped short, "How the hell did you know it was me?"

Sean grinned, "There's something about the sound of your footsteps, the vibrations they send through the floor, the displacement of air your body makes... it's distinctive... it tells me a young alchemist who has a problem with authority has entered the premises."

Ed just stared for a moment, "You're insane, you know that right?"

Sean nodded deadpan, "So they tell me, the voices in my head that is... if you ever get voices in your head pay no attention to them, they're very insulting."

Ed grinned for a minute, then said thoughtfully, "funny how crazy people can interact so much with something that's not real isn't it?"

Sean looked up from his gun, "What makes you think it's not real? Reality Major is subjective, by the very definitions science lays out for us, reality is just electrical signals interpreted by our brains."

Ed narrowed his eyes in thought, "... I don't see where you're going with this."

Sean put down his gun and turned to face Ed leaning against the counter. "Just for a moment think outside the box science made for you, if reality is electrical signals what if some of those signals are absent? A blind man's reality is different from the reality of a deaf man, a deaf man hears nothing, but just because we hear what he can't doesn't mean it isn't there... so why should we assume that just because some people hear what we can't it isn't there, maybe we're just deaf in a way, why do we make that kind of arrogant assumption?"

Ed shrugged, "you tell me."

Sean reply was tinged with more than a little bitterness, "Because it's human nature, humans can't _stand_ it if someone looks different, thinks different, acts different, humans believe in conformity, so if someone perceives things differently they must be disabled or crazy... Have you ever heard the saying, 'In the land of the blind the one eyed man is king'? Well it's bullshit... in the land of blind the one eyed man is insane, because he sees things that aren't there."

Ed shifted a bit uncomfortably, "You really have a dim view of people don't you?"

Sean shrugged, "They deserve it, look at our government we put down a rebellion but that wasn't enough, we had to attempt genocide because face it, Ishvallans are different, and we're not as bad as Drachma if you say something that could even be misconstrued as anti-government, heh arrest the bastard, break out the rubber clubs and branding irons. Don't get me wrong I like some individuals here and there, but people? People are selfish, intolerant, sadistic, murderous, spineless assholes and I'm still being nice."

Ed nodded hesitantly as Sean continued, "I'm not saying I'm a good person either, I mean every time I take a shot at a target I imagine it's someone who... well let's just say I've got a bone to pick with him." as Sean finished he slapped the magazine into his gun and in one smooth motion turned cocked his gun and fired twelve times never once pausing to correct.

Ed glanced at the one hole in the heavy foam target for a minute, "Tough luck you only hit your guy once."

The slight mechanic grinned, "Try again Major," with those cryptic words he walked out.

Ed frowned in confusion 'try again'? he flipped the switch to bring the target forward almost absentmindedly. When the target got to him he noticed the hole in the center was slightly ragged at the edges, curious he reached into the thick foam and pulled out the remains of a bullet and then another one, he continued pulling bullets from the one hole in the target until the flattened and deformed remains of twelve bullets sat on the counter in front of him, all pulled from one hole.


	10. A Hospital Visit

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA

Author's Note: Many thanks to Kame-tan my first reviewer in what feels like forever, btw timeskip!! sorry

* * *

_Two months later_.

Scar breathed heavily, every intake of air rasping painfully in his half-crushed throat. He examined himself in the mirror, giving an uncharacteristic wince at the ugly red and purple stripe across his throat. He raised his hand to examine the injury more closely, and hissed in pain as some of his other injuries made themselves known. Scar reached towards his right pectoral and gritted his teeth as he pulled a six inch shard of steel out of his chest, the broken off blade of a combat knife. he examined the rest of his body and was not happy with what he saw, sprained wrist and ankle, broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, he had never been this outclassed before, and by a kid no less. He had been able to keep up with the kid's speed for about fifteen minutes, at which point the kids techniques began to move so rapidly they blurred to even his experienced eyes. And the kind of power he could put behind his punches, the only reason Scar hadn't died with the first attack was because it requires time to throw all your weight into one assault, the first punch the kid threw, if it had landed, could have cracked his skull open like an eggshell. As it is the kid's rapid fire onslaught would have killed him quickly if not for the oil slick the kid slipped on, the distraction gave Scar just enough time to destroy the concrete beneath his assailant's feet, he had been buried under several large chunks of concrete. Scar would have preferred to destroy his opponent's head to make sure, but, he wasn't sure he would have gotten there fast enough, Scar knew some of those concrete shards must have weighed a few hundred pounds but even so... A few of Scars punches had connected not many but enough that it _should _have made a difference, it had been like punching the human equivalent of a brick wall, and the frightening thing was that the kid hadn't been wearing body armor. Scar didn't know why he had been attacked, but he was sure he'd be seeing his attacker again, and to make matters worse it had been midnight in a slummy section of town so he didn't even know what his enemy looked like. _He _was supposed to be the hunter, and whoever he chose the prey, having the roles reversed was... disconcerting.

* * *

Sean Ryder lay on a hospital bed for once looking rather pathetic beneath the bandages and the oxygen mask. He would have no doubt been rather irritated over the way the nurses were fussing over 'the poor boy in room 67' however fortunately for the nurses in question he was unconscious and in no position to make sarcastic comments. Colonel Mustang however was very much awake and extremely irritated, though with his subordinate not the nurses,

"You know," he fumed to Hawkeye as they waited to be informed of Sean's condition, "I thought this kid was actually smart, or at the very least had the common sense not to end up in the hospital!"

Hawkeye almost smiled at her superior's obvious attempt to cover up his worry, "Well sir sometimes accidents happen."

Mustang snorted, "Accident my ass, if I ever express the thought that any teenager other than Alphonse has even an ounce of common sense, I give you full permission to shoot my idiot ass off!"

At that moment a girl in military uniform burst into the lobby. She was just about Hawkeye's height, with short brown hair, her bangs falling into her face. Roy had a feeling it would have been a very pretty face if it hadn't looked so distressed, however he noticed the patch on the left shoulder of her uniform and immediately suppressed any urge to stare, this girl was Special Ops which basically meant she could kill him in nine or ten different ways without even pulling a weapon.

"Where's Sean is he alright?!" she asked frantically.

Roy stared this time in surprise, "We're waiting for the doctors to tell us... how do you know him?"

"He was my partner in Special Ops training," she replied absently, "what happened? Nobody told me anything!"

Roy glanced at Hawkeye, Sean went through Special Ops? That was one week of some of the toughest training of your life, an hour of sleep per day, no food, and a maximum of a quarter liter of water every twelve hours. "He got buried under a few hundred pounds of concrete, other than that no one seems to know anything."

At that minute a doctor walked out, he was probably middle aged but his exhaustion made him look about sixty. "I'm Dr. Mason, the three of you are here for Sean Ryder?" He continued hardly waiting for the nods, "Well I have no idea how he's in such good shape after that, he had a collapsed lung, a sprained wrist and ankle, a cracked rib, and some internal bleeding. We're keeping him under observation for a few more days but we think we got all the internal injuries, his lung has been reinflated, and as long as he's careful his wrist and ankle should heal in a few weeks, his rib in about two months. Captain Ryder is a very lucky person, either that or his bones are made of rock."

Hawkeye spoke up, "Why? How bad should his injuries have been?"

Dr. Mason looked up looking utterly bewildered, "His skull should have been caved in... he doesn't even have a concussion!"


	11. Iatrophobia

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA

A/N: Iatrophobia (an irrational fear of going to the doctor or of doctors themselves)

_

* * *

_

Sean woke up with a pounding headache, something he mused without bothering to open his eyes, which was becoming much too common. He took stock of how he was feeling, except for an ache in his chest he couldn't really account for, and that headache, he felt fairly good. Sean finally opened his eyes which were immediately assailed by blinding fluorescents. He immediately closed his eyes again as the shafts of harsh light stabbed his eyes, surviving that particular adventure, he decided, had not been one of his better ideas.

"Sean? You're awake?" Came one of the last voices he expected.

"No D, I'm dead and I'm in hell 'cause that's the only thing that explains those damn lights," Sean mumbled irritably, "What kind of sadistic freak would put that kind of lighting in a house?"

D shook her head before realizing he couldn't see her, "You're in the hospital Sean."

Sean stiffened almost imperceptibly, "That isn't funny D."

"I'm not joking, what do you expect after getting buried under three hundred pounds of concrete?"

Sean squeezed his eyes tighter clutching at his sheets, "No I don't want to be here, I won't let them do it again, not again!!" He breathed faster, nearly hyperventilating, he felt someone pry his hand from the sheets and bit back the scream he felt building in his throat as adrenaline flooded his system. And... whoever it was just held his hand, still breathing like he had run a mile, he looked over and took a chance opening his eyes.

It was just D, looking concerned, "I'm right here," she said gently suddenly nothing like the tough girl he had trained with, "I'm not going to let anyone hurt you." Sean began to relax slowly, remembering where he was, Central, far away from Transium, Proxima, The Meat Grinder, and the hundreds of other hellholes he had endured both during and after the rebellion. Most importantly, this wasn't the Lair, he was over a hundred miles away from there, he looked fearfully around the room, and yet so close.

* * *

D leaned back in her chair, outwardly placid, her mind was racing though. Her friend was apparently frightened of hospitals, actually she amended 'fright' wasn't strong enough, it seemed to be an actual phobia and the level was disturbing, he had actually seemed to forget she was there. Nurses didn't seem to bother him very much, nor the idea of being sedated. It was about the only reason he was sleeping at the moment, she had made the mistake of mentioning that he had gone into surgery to repair internal injuries, at which point he had promptly freaked out again. It had taken a lot of effort to regain his attention and make him understand that they had only repaired some internal bleeding nothing else, still though the idea of surgery seemed to disturb him far more than normal. D wasn't sure what was going on but she didn't like it, Sean was tough, far tougher than anyone she knew, for something to be affecting him like this, whatever had happened would have to have been hardcore torture, or something similar.

* * *

Sean floated in and out of various dreams. Not the sort of dreams one relishes having, he was reliving the Rebellion day by day, every moment of pain as bullets and shrapnel cut into him, every moment his life hung on the edge, every sickening thrill of terror, and every last person he killed, he was seeing it over and over. Suddenly everything changed he was no longer lying behind a shattered wall listening to the screams of the dying, he looked around to find himself in a cavern. Sean looked down at himself and found he was back to his present self instead of the kid from the Rebellion. He looked back up, his nose wrinkling automatically as he caught the iron stench of blood, he walked forward through a narrow, almost claustrophobic, tunnel. As he exited the tunnel he found himself in a huge room, there was a lake that looked red in the middle then again that might have been the light, everything in here looked red. But then his nose caught the smell of blood again, so strong he had to resist the urge to vomit, and he decided the lake probably was red after all. Suddenly he noticed someone standing in the middle of the lake, how could he miss that? That person was about his height, though how he knew that since the person was up to his waist in red was beyond him. The person turned toward him revealing crazed eyes and long lank hair pasted to his face with blood, Sean felt a chill and immediately turned for the exit... it was gone. Sean turned back and the thing whoever or whatever it was, was right in his face. Sean jumped backwards in shock and revulsion, feeling his back hit the wall. "Who the hell are you?" he said belligerently ignoring the way his voice shook.

The person gave a predatory grin, "You."

Sean's eyes went wide, "NO! I'm nothing like you, nothing at all!"

The other Sean shook his head chuckling darkly, "Alright you got me I'm not _exactly _you, hmmm how do I put this? I am everything that you hate about yourself." He continued grinning insanely, "I'm that part of you who lived for the slaughter of the Rebellion, that part of you who would love to put the good doctor through everything he did to you and more. And that scar on your face..." here Sean held his hand up to a faint raised white line that twisted through his cheek, "I'm that little part of that was having fun when you held the face of the man who did that to you in a pool of flaming gasoline. Funny thing," the other Sean mused, "How you think you hate me, and yet, when you dig down deep, you love everything about me, you enjoy slaughter, feeling blood spray over you, hearing your victims beg for mercy, and then killing them in the worst ways your twisted mind can imagine." He moved closer to his pale-faced twin, until he spoke directly in his ear, and Sean could smell his rancid breath. "You're just like me, the only difference between us... is that you're in denial."

* * *

Sean jolted from sleep again, D sat up in alarm checking her watch, he shouldn't have woken up for another few hours at least. "Sean? Are you alright?" D asked carefully.

Sean stared for a moment, trying to form words through his drug fogged mind, "Tell me you don't see me like that," he said frantically.

D looked confused, "Like what?"

"A psychopath, a murderer... a freak," Sean whispered in a shame filled tone.

D gave him a long hard look, wondering where on earth that had come from, "Of course not, you're my best friend, I could never think of you like that."

"Even if I had... done things?"

D gave him another worried glance, "What things?"

Sean hesitated and then laughed nervously, "N-nothing, never mind."

At that moment D's curiosity overcame her and she decided to find his file.


	12. Briefing

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA

* * *

D fumbled through the many envelopes in the large file cabinet in front of her. The main problem with finding Sean's file had been figuring out what he was filed under. He was in Colonel Mustang's unit so she had kinda figured he would be listed under General Personnel. However she had been at a loss when she had gone through those files, Special Ops files, and even State Alchemist files just in case someone had screwed up, nothing. Then she had an idea, it was a long shot but worth a try, she hit the Black Ops files. She had to be pretty careful about this, because if she got caught reading something particularly interesting, she could end up in prison for life. "Ah there it is," she muttered, "the R's, Amber Rawlins, Timothy Ripley, Michael Rochester, Sallie Ryder, pay dirt! Sean Ryder! Hey wait a second..." D turned her attention to the file labeled Sallie Ryder pulled it out and opened it. She nodded as she saw the photo, suspicions confirmed, Staff Sergeant Sallie Ryder was Sean's mother, seems Black Ops were a family tradition. D glanced at the status area curiously, MIA that was a shame, then she noticed what was beneath it and felt a very real pang of regret, written in heavy slashes of red ink were the words 'Presumed Dead'. D looked up at the smiling photo and down again at that damning line, it just wasn't fair, she had just enough time to see that Sergeant Ryder's final mission had taken her into Drachma before the door banged open and she scrambled to look inconspicuous.

Colonel Lagrin was D's commanding officer and was generally looked on with equal parts annoyance and respect. He had this inexplicable habit of walking in whenever someone was doing something stupid, something that was needless to say quite irritating. Generally he would just laugh in an indulgent grandfatherly way and keep moving, D got the feeling he wouldn't be so lenient with this. "Ah-ha! There you are Lieutenant," he said loudly, "I've been looking all over for you! C'mon we've you've got an assignment straight from Hakuro no less."

D got up and followed him out, wondering when the other shoe was going to drop, "Sir... I mean, never mind," she finished lamely.

Lagrin glanced at D scratching his gray buzz cut absentmindedly, "I'm not going to tell about what you weren't looking at if that's what you were about to ask." He smiled at the surprised look on his subordinates face, "Everyone wants a peek most just don't have the guts to try, but don't get caught next time kid, alright?"

D nodded slightly dazed by the way she was suddenly off the hook, and as a result almost walked into the door to Hakuro's office before it was opened.

She stared at Sean, she wasn't particularly surprised by his presence but rather by his activity. He seemed to be munching on a slice of pie and dropping crumbs all over an irate General Hakuro's paperwork. "Hakuro took a deep breath as he visibly struggled not to kill the soldier sitting in front of him, "Ah Lieutenant good we can begin the briefing."

* * *

Ed and Al walked into the office unusually early, they had a train to catch and a report to turn in, and if they missed either appointment there'd be hell to pay, in one case this was more literal than figurative. Ed stopped short when he noticed half a pumpkin pie sitting out in the open, he immediately began to walk toward trying to look nonchalant, but instead looking more like more like a vulture descending on the kill. "Um brother?" Al said, "I think that's Sean's desk."

Ed waved a hand dismissively, "If I just take a little piece he'll never notice, and anyway maybe it's not even his."

Ed began to reach toward the pie when he was startled by a rather loud yell, "What the FUCK are you doing?!?"

Ed jumped about three feet into the air, and glanced at the door Sean was back and he was pissed, "Oh uh... Hi! I was just-"

"Don't give me that!" Sean growled, walking over and grabbing his pie protectively, "let me be clear, if you ever touch my food, your mechanic will be replacing your other arm too!" He walked out muttering darkly through a mouthful of pastry, as Ed and Al stared in frightened disbelief. Ten minutes later he was sitting in Hakuro's office somehow endeavoring to munch and smirk at the same time, as Hakuro grew more and more irritated as a result of his crumb covered papers.

Hakuro leaned back trying desperately to ignore the paperwork that would almost certainly need to be recopied, and began to brief the pair in front of him as D sat down. "We've been receiving some disturbing reports from the South. There is a small abandoned power plant about eight miles north of th Aerugan border, we have reason to believe that the plant has been taken over by terrorists and is being used as a weapons factory. Your objectives are, one: Confirm that the plant is indeed being used to manufacture illegal arms. And two: if it is being used in that manner, or there are any other illegal activities taking place inside, destroy the plant. Afterwards return and report, we're giving you permission to execute this mission with extreme prejudice."

Sean raised one eyebrow, "Translation?" he said with his mouth full.

D glanced over grinning at the sight of his cheek stuffed to the bursting, "Shoot first ask questions never."

"Cool, when do we leave?"

* * *

Sean walked into Roy Mustang's office and cleared his throat. Mustang looked up, giving the the unfriendly looking gun his subordinate was carrying an uneasy look, "Come in Captain what can I do for you?"

Sean took a deep breath Mustang was not going to like this, "I need to leave for a few days sir, here's the necessary paperwork," he placed a folder on the desk.

Mustang opened the folder and glanced at the contents, then he did a double take, "Reason classified? Orders directly from General Hakuro? I'm not sure which is weirder," Roy scrawled his signature on the bottom, "What the hell are you up to?"

Sean walked out checking the bolt of the submachine gun slung over his shoulder, "We're blowing up a factory."

Roy leaned back in his chair frowning, "No" he said aloud, "I definitely don't want to know."


	13. Scars

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA

* * *

D sat in the back of the covered truck as it bounced its way towards their objective. It was still three hours away and she was bored out of her skull. She lay back in the truck listening as Sean's curses continued to become fouler. She'd noted absently, that both the frequency and the potency of expletives exiting her companion's mouth, incresed in direct proportion to how far south they were. In short Sean seemed to have a great dislike for heat. D sighed as Sean cursed truck, driver, and sun, it had been amusing for awhile but as much as she liked him, Sean was beginning to get irritating, after all there were only so many ways to use the word 'fuck'. "Hey," she said, "Look on the bright side, at least its a dry heat."

"So's a blowtorch," Sean retorted, as he pulled off his jacket in disgust, and threw it at the window connecting them with the driver, "But I wouldn't stick my face in that given the choice."

D stared at her friend's forearms, it wasn't like she had never seen them before but she had never _looked_. White lines in a multitude of patterns criss-crossed his arms like a frustrated artist's scribbles. One particularly long and noticeable scar ran the length of the inside of his left arm, one end disappearing beneath the cuff of his shooting glove, the other beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. Now that she thought about it, she'd never really asked, barely even noticed all the scars covering his arms, or the strange curving twisted one that marked his left cheek.

"Shrapnel."

D started in surprise, "Huh? What was that?"

Sean rolled his eyes and lay on the floorboards staring at the canvas ceiling in boredom, "I saw you looking at my scars, that's what they're from, shrapnel."

D cocked her head to one side quizzically, "That one on your face isn't, it doesn't look right."

Her friend nodded slowly, bringing one hand to his face, fingering the scar absentmindedly, she noted that even his fingers, at least the parts unsheathed by black leather, were heavily scarred, "It's from an electrical burn," Sean said quietly. His eyes were staring not at but through the ceiling, at some distant battleground only he could see, "During the Rebellion some guy shoved my face into some exposed wiring, and well... you can see the results."

D felt slightly queasy, she had shocked herself once trying to put a lightbulb in a shorted socket. She had suffered a second degree burn, electrocution had not been fun to say the least and that hadn't even left a scar, D didn't even want to know how that particular incident had felt. "So uh... how did you get out of that mess?" she asked. No response, "Sean? You there?"

Sean jerked from his flashback, "Sorry... what'd you say?" D repeated her inquiry, and Sean rolled over turning his back, "I'd rather not talk about it if that's alright."

"Oh... um sure ok," D replied, a bit startled. She had asked Sean a lot of questions about the Rebellion, this was the first he refused to answer.

* * *

_Sean stared at the wall of the truck not really seeing it. He was back in the stinking alleys of some town that was now rubble, he felt a hand gripping the back of his neck as his face was slowly pushed forward. His hands grabbed at walls, crates, dumpsters, and his face kept moving towards that sparking bundle of wires, he shut his eyes as he was forced that last few inches. They shot back open as he screamed, white hot electricity searing his face, the scent of burning flesh filled his nose, and some part of him realized that he was the source of that smell. He struggled and flailed wildly, anything to get away from that source of agony, and finally went slack with exhaustion. Suddenly Sean felt the grip on the back of his neck relax, as the owner of the hand decided he was no longer a threat... a fatal mistake. Sean planted his feet on the ground twisting and jumping to his left at the same time. He ducked under his assailant's arm, taking note of the pool of gasoline leaking from the broken generator that had been used to torture him, he shoved his opponent forward hooking his foot in front of the other's leg, sending him sprawling face first into the puddle. Before the man could get up Sean stamped his boot onto the back of his neck, reaching into his pocket he pulled out his always handy lighter flicked it, and tossed it into the volatile pool. The man began to scream as flaming gasoline roasted his face, and hot fumes fried his lungs. Finally he stopped moving..._

_

* * *

_Sean jerked back out of his semiconscious state and sighed heavily, was he ever going to stop having these flashbacks? At this point the flashbacks had moved out of the realm of terrifying and nauseating, to extremely irritating. It was Sean mused something like flipping through radio programs and going, 'Heard that one, heard that one, don't you people have anything new!?' He smirked, he was comparing flashbacks of the bloodiest time in recent history to bad radio reruns, now Sean knew he was jaded. 'Jaded' he tested the word in his mind, yeah that was a pretty good description, a sort of combination of 'cynical' and 'bored as hell', that described about perfectly lately. Hopefully this mission would be at least slightly exciting. Sean glanced at his pack with some misgivings, it contained a bomb.

Now any normal soldier would be uneasy with a bomb on his back for good reason, Sean however was not uneasy because he would shortly have a bomb strapped to his back. No, he was uneasy because the bomb which would be strapped to his back had been built by someone else. Sean had an experience with someone else's bomb, needless to say it had not been a good one. The explosive in question had a faulty detonator and he had narrowly missed being sprayed in the eyes with sulfuric acid, as it was his hands had been drenched. He'd gotten his hands cleaned off fairly quickly but there was still some scarring, 'though,' he thought to himself, 'nowhere near as bad as that electrical burn on my face.' Over time he had become fairly dispassionate about his scars, first learning to live with them, but now... there was a certain sense of pride there. All the scars he carried told a story, each had its own individual tale, but in the end they all said one thing, 'I'm a survivor, I've got the proof that a hundred people tried to kill me... I'm here they aren't... Go ahead try it, fuck with me. Make. My. Day.'

Sean smirked again, he didn't exactly look tough or scary without the scars exposed, he had no illusions about that. He'd had far to many women, and a few men for that matter hit on him to retain that delusion. He shook his head to clear that thought... disturbing, he had nothing against gay people, but another guy hitting on him was, well freaky. Now he found himself trying to dispel thoughts of D from his mind, Sean closed his eyes, he was becoming to attached to her, and a relationship just... it wouldn't work, it couldn't. There was too much in his past, not to mention that not so little secret he was keeping from her and just about all his other friends, that secret was really becoming a pain. Part of him would love to spill it, just get it over with. The other part was too scared. He figured eventually it would end in compromise, he'd spill his guts, then he'd go to the nearest bar and get wasted, then he'd get tossed in a five by five cell for letting out state secrets.

There was a jerk as the truck came to a halt, Sean got up retrieving his jacket and gun, and grabbing his volatile cargo before jumping from the truck. D followed shortly thereafter. They walked up a hill and when they got the top the two soldiers got a very good view of the power plant nestled in the valley below. It was not what they had expected.

"What the fuck is that?!?"


	14. Ignition

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA

* * *

D and Sean stared at the power plant in astonishment, or more accurately at the giant tube protruding from the plant's roof. "I think," Sean said slowly, in response to D's outburst, "that it might be a railgun."

D glanced over in bewilderment, "A what now?"

Sean closed his eyes trying to come up with a way to explain the concept without going into the physics of the thing, "Okay put simply it's a gun that propels bullets with electromagnets instead of gunpowder, and if that railgun is as big as I think it is, they could hit Central from here."

D's eyes widened, that was well over two hundred miles, "That's insane... why don't we have these things?"

"Well you'd need a power plant to generate enough energy to run one of these things efficiently," Sean explained, "And power plants aren't very... well, portable, in a military campaign it's all about mobility, a weapon's no good if you can't take it with you."

"Then what good would it do for these guys?" D gave Sean a look of total confusion, he was making no sense at all.

Her friend gave her a look, "You really don't understand strategy on a large scale do you?" D glared at him not even deigning to give an answer. Sean sighed, "Okay in a military engagement the goal is to destroy and demoralize the enemy army, but these guys are terrorists, they're trying to scare civilians, destroying cities is a good way to do that, and since cities don't really move around much, a city destroying weapon doesn't have to either."

D nodded that made sense but there was one problem, "I fail to see how one artillery piece can destroy an entire city."

The smaller soldier took a moment to glare balefully at the plant, "A railgun isn't limited in the size of its projectile and the speed it can launch it at in the same way most artillery is, it uses a magnetic field for propulsion, that's a lot more powerful than explosives."

D glanced at the plant, wondering just how powerful it could possibly be, "How powerful are we talking here?"

Sean sighed looking more than a little uneasy, "Again if this thing is as big as I think it is, we could be talking a twenty ton projectile moving at ten thousand miles per hour, if you're curious that could cause earthquakes on impact."

D was rendered almost speechless with shock, the number of deaths that could cause... "Well we'll just have to disable it before they can fire."

Her friend was shaking his head before she'd even finished, "No... that thing could fire whenever, the plant would continuously charge the magnets and as for loading the projectile... the only way they could have built something this big is with an alchemist, a good one, what we have to do is destroy this thing before they _decide_ to fire it."

* * *

Sean rolled over onto his back, he and D had advanced to within about a hundred yards of the plant before being forced to crawl to avoid sentries. Sean glanced at D, "What was the terrain like?" he whispered hoarsely.

"Pretty rocky," D whispered back, "We'll have to be careful running out of here if we twist something we could get caught in the explosion, there's also a river in front of the main entrance-" Suddenly there was a loud bang, like thunder, "What the hell was that?"

Sean swore, "Goddammit I didn't think they'd drop us this close to the fighting, there's a big terrorist cell somewhere to the east. High Command sent in a brigade about a month ago, sounds like they just set off some heavy artillery..." Sean looked over at her with an uncharacteristically serious face, "We gotta do this as fast as possible, it sounds like the fighting's about forty or fifty miles closer than it should be... let's not get caught in the middle huh?"

D nodded a bit distractedly, "Sean... your backpack is hissing."

Sean gave her a bemused look, "It's hissing?..... shit." Sean fumbled with the straps, trying to get the pack off, he slung it in front of him and pulled his arm back to throw, there was a flash and a roar.

* * *

Arkady Grenmov was not an idealist, quite the opposite, the only reason he was working with these people was because they paid better than the Drachman Army. Arkady was a mercenary, the authority he answered to was whoever had the cash, the only conscience he had to worry about his own greed. Because of this and his reputation as a guy who got results, he had been involved in a multitude of campaigns for just as many factions. He had started his mercenary career as a State Alchemist killer for the Ishbalans. Then the Amestrians offered better pay so he became an interrogator, a polite way of saying a torturer. After Amestris's Eastern Rebellion he had infiltrated Briggs and blown up its commanding officer, that guy had gotten replaced by Olivier Armstrong though, and no way was he going after her. Now he'd been working with this haphazard terrorist cell for awhile and he was bored out of his skull. What he would give for something real instead of this blasted guard duty. Then as if to answer his wish there was a roar and he felt an invisible hand throw him against a support beam. Arkady stood up trying to clear his head, he glanced to his left and saw his rifle wrapped around another beam, damn. He looked towards the break in the wall and saw two figures walking through the smoke and dust, he couldn't make out their faces but they both moved with an easy grace that he generally associated with either gymnasts, or the kind of soldiers who thought that killing people with guns spoiled the fun. Arkady whipped out a combat knife and charged the taller, keeping as low as possible, taking advantage of the bad lighting and the debris clouding the air. Five feet away the tall one started in surprise, Arkady grinned it was already too late. Suddenly to his shock the short soldier launched into the air, but not up, straight forward streamlining his body like a torpedo. Arkady side-stepped the uncontrolled charge, and just before it happened he saw the fatal mistake he made. Arkady had assumed that the smaller soldier was body-slamming him, but no, there was a gleaming eight-inch blade sticking straight out to the soldier's right. Arkady tried to keep his momentum to the side going and only just avoided being decapitated altogether, as it was, he felt pain rip through the side of his neck. He fell to the concrete floor clapping a hand to his neck, no good the bastard had hit his subclavian artery he was as good as gone. The bastard somersaulted rolling to his feet a few meters behind him. Arkady rolled over expecting to see some tough grizzled veteran looking at him. Arkady stared at his killer, it was a kid. And not just any kid, one of those rebellious punks that made him wish he had a daughter so he could forbid her to marry one. He cursed foully in several languages. The kid grinned obviously understanding exactly what he was saying.

Then the kid spoke to him, and Arkady's fading mind managed to both process the words, and register astonishment, as he heard this punk kid speaking to him in his native language, "Don't feel too bad," the kid said, his Drachman perfect down to the accent, "Even if all of hell's angels attacked her I'd still fight them and win." Arkady thought he'd love to see that fight, than he thought nothing at all


	15. Assassin's Dance

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA

* * *

Sean and D tore through the plant at top speed, guns blazing in the half light and twisted shadows, cast by the massive support beams that studded the area. Quickly they ducked behind one of the larger beams to reload.

"Out of curiosity," D began.

"Yes?"

"What are we gonna do? As I remember our bomb blew up a few minutes ago."

Sean grinned, "Who needs a bomb? The thing that powers this plant is a steam turbine, all we have to do is throw something into the blades to fuck it up... And as it happens I have a few grenades that'll do the job quite nicely."

D glanced at her friend, "Why'd they give us a bomb then?"

Her friend shrugged, "Bigger boom? I don't know, I didn't like the idea but what do I know? I'm just a Captain." Sean cocked both his pistols and glanced out, "Alright I'll hit their right you got the left."

D pulled back the cocking lever on her machine gun and promptly sped out of cover. Immediately she heard hisses and zings as the air filled with hot lead. She saw a man aim a huge anti-tank rifle at her, D dived left squeezing the trigger of her gun. The terrorist jerked and spasmed as bullets ripped through him, in the midst of one of his spasms his rifle discharged. A deafening roar filled the air and D's arm was suddenly cold, she glanced down and saw that the bullet had grazed her arm, ripping her sleeve off. She breathed a sigh of relief, if that bullet had actually hit her arm she wouldn't have one now. Slapping a fresh clip into her gun, D looked down hearing a metallic clink. A grenade rolled to a stop next to her, she snatched it up and threw it back. There was an almighty bang as it detonated, filling the air with razor sharp shards of steel. Reaching back D placed the barrel of her machine gun into the crook of a 'V' shaped beam, and pulled the trigger firing blindly. Over the chatter of the machine gun she heard shouts and screams, then nothing. She quickly reloaded and threw her own grenade forward to make sure. 'I wonder how it's going with Sean,' she thought as the grenade went off.

* * *

Sean twisted to the side, into a position that would have probably dislocated most people's legs. As it as, Sean's legs remained in their joints and he heard zings as bullets cut through the space he had been in. Sean leapt forward, somersaulting and rolling back to his feet, as he came up he fired both guns to both his sides nailing a a pair of terrorists in the face. Another opponent swung his gun at him like a club, Sean smirked and raised one arm, deflecting the attack with contemptuous ease. He pulled his other hand back and pistol-whipped the man, there was a sickening crunch as his skull broke under the blow. Another terrorist raised his weapon, Sean ran forward wrapping his arm around the other mans gun hand, knocking the other man's aim off even as his own bullet smashed through his enemy's skull. The assassin continued his dance, guns belching fire and death, no movement wasted. He charged forward bringing his knee into his opponent's chest feeling the ribs crumble and cave in. Spinning his gun trailing blood and brain matter he pulled the trigger again. A bullet fragmented on impact with bone, ripping half the face off of the man sneaking up on him. The slides on his guns clicked back, empty. Sean flipped his guns to grip the still hot barrels, he swung the guns like twin hammers each impact jarring his arms as as the guns cut into flesh and shattered bone like ceramic. Finally no more enemies rose and Sean leaned back against a beam to catch his breath.

D ran up to him, "How the hell did you do that?"

Sean looked up at her, "I ran and shot and hit people," he replied sardonically.

"Oh well how specific," D returned, she paised a moment before speaking again, "What is it? What are you so determined to keep me from learning?"

Sean closed his eyes, "Don't worry about it, you'll find out sooner or later... You won't like it though." He stood up cracking his neck and reloading his handguns, "C'mon let's get this over with."

D walked forward following him, "What about that alchemist?"

Sean shrugged, "He's somewhere back there, missing most of his head I might add."

About twenty feet from the main entrance they found a huge spinning cylinder, the steel shell containing the turbine.

"I don't see any way to get the grenades inside the shell," D said, "Maybe we should have kept the alchemist alive and made him transmute a way into it."

"Easier said than done," Sean replied, tying his grenades together, "Anyhow look carefully and you'll see a vent for excess heat."

D stared hard, "You mean that little black blur? How the fuck are you gonna get a grenade in there?"

Sean didn't answer, just pulled the pins and tossed the string of grenades almost casually at the whirling turbine. There was a loud clanking as to D's astonishment the grenades found there way inside the vent. Sean simply turned and began walking towards the entrance, D hurried to catch up and glanced back, as she heard a roar that dwarfed everything they had heard this day. The shell swelled in the middle and burst, spraying red hot steel and flame in every direction. As they stepped out the door the fuel caught, and the plant became hell.


	16. Conversations Beneath the Aurora

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA

* * *

Sean rolled over on his back breathing hard, watching as the plant blazed beneath the night sky, "Glad that's over," he scrambled to his feet, "Well D-"

"Sean?"

"We'd better get going, we-"

"Sean?"

have a long way to walk, and-"

"Sean!!"

"What goddammit!!" The soldier snapped.

D pointed to Sean's left sleeve finger shaking slightly, "Your arm's on fire."

Sean rolled his eyes, "Most amusing I'm sure D, but we have more important things to..." Sean's nose wrinkled as he caught the scent of burning fabric, he glanced down and paled as he saw flames licking at the sleeve of his flak jacket. Sean then proceeded to do the last thing D would have expected from him... he panicked, "Sonuvamotherfuckingbitch!!!!!! Putitout, putitout, putitouuuuuuuuuuut!!!!!" He yelled at the top of his lungs, sprinting in random directions.

D shouted at her friend, "STOP DROP AND ROLL DAMMIT!!! STOP DROP AND-" _Splash,_ "Or jump in the river, that works too."

* * *

D fumed at her soaking wet friend, "Did nobody ever teach you, stop drop and roll? Why didn't you think for one minute?"

The slight teen glared right back at her, "How about I set _your_ arm on fire, and we see how _you_ handle it huh?"

D simply held her face in that look every woman seemed to know, the one guaranteed since the dawn of time to make men slink away with their proverbial tails between their legs. Sean managed to hold eye contact for roughly thirty seconds, before he turned away and settled for pouting sulkily. D smiled as her friend stomped next to her, dripping like a drowned rat, longer strands of his saturated hair plastered to his face, his face set in a pout that looked very out of place on his features, very cute...... Whoa! Now where did that thought come from?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the object of her observations, "D? Ya wanna radio for extraction now? Or are we planning on staying the night?"

D snapped from her thoughts, "Right sorry." D looked back up from the radio a few minutes later, "They should be here in a few hours or so."

Sean nodded, "Good," he flopped back on the grass with a wet smack, D chuckled not the least put off by his glare. Sean crossed his arms with a huff and stared at the sky, in truth made uneasy by her smile, it should be illegal to look that good!

* * *

They sat in silence for a long time, then just as Sean was about to nod off his eyes snapped wide open, and he sat up staring fixedly at the sky, "What is that?" he asked quietly, eyes filled with wonder.

D sat up as well, in truth she'd been just about to drop off herself, but she looked up at the sky and all thoughts of sleep were banished. She stared at the wide blue-green ribbon of light undulating across the heavens in awe, "It's the aurora," she whispered, "Where my family lives it appears at least once a year, it's still amazing every single time.... you've never seen it?"

Sean shook his head, finding himself unable to speak for a moment. D stared up at the sky, glanced at the still smoldering remains of the power plant, then looked up again, "Amazing isn't it?" she commented, "Even in the middle of all this death and horror we humans have made, there's still beauty in the world."

Sean looked at the ribbon of light, and then at his friend. He would forever attribute what he was about to say to exhaustion, because he, Sean Ryder would never say something so cheesy in his right mind, "I found that out lying in a hospital bed last week," he blurted out.

D tore her gaze from the sky to stare at her younger friend, had he just... tried to say something... romantic? She smiled as he blushed, visible even in the dark, under her scrutiny. Suddenly D had an interesting thought, "Sean what did you say to that guy when we first broke into the plant? When you were speaking Drachman?"

Sean face turned from a light shade of embarrassed, to deep mortified color, "Um I said uh, he picked the wrong people to fuck with!"

D turned away shaking her head, he was lying, he'd probably said something about protecting her, judging by the amount of blood rising to his face, something tough and cheesy, and probably sweet. D stole another glance at his face, he was still bright red but had once again resumed staring at the sky with a look of childlike wonder, he looked... innocent, and as much as she liked Sean she had never thought that was a word she'd apply to him. She found herself wondering about this different side of Sean she was seeing. D was used to the bitter cynical soldier, someone much older than his years told. This shy vulnerable person was so different from the Sean she was used to. Which was the real one? Or were they both him? It was confusing to say the least. D glanced over as Sean nudged her arm tentatively, "Yeah?"

Sean took a deep breath, "There's something I have to tell you... but I don't want to."

"Why not?" she asked.

Sean shifted uncomfortably, "Because.... because you'll hate me if I tell you."

D stared in total bewilderment, "I could never hate you Sean... why do think I'll-"

"I don't think D," the soldier interrupted, "I know, and you'll have every right to...." Sean's breath came heavy and erratic, and it took D a moment to realize he was holding back tears, "I don't know how to say this D, but I'm-"

Sean cut himself off as they heard the growl of engines, D mentally swore in frustration, so close! So fucking close! As they drove back towards Central D tried several times to pry Sean's secret from him, but to no avail.


	17. Rage

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA

* * *

D flicked through the filing cabinet yet again, trying to find where she had been before. It took a few minutes, but she found her way back to the correct personnel files. Aha, Sean Ryder, D flipped open the file, completely ignoring the Top Secret stamp on the outside. She scanned the file until something caught her attention, her eyes widened and just as rapidly narrowed to slits, D snapped the file closed. Not bothering to put her prize back she ran out of the storage room towards Mustang's office.

Sean sighed contentedly and leaned back in his chair gulping his coffee. He was actually feeling pretty good. Apart from a bullet graze across the ribs, despite all the gunfire at the power plant he was in pretty good shape. Just as he was about to stop procrastinating on his paperwork and try actually doing it, D, didn't walk but stormed into the office. Sean stood up to meet her, "D is something wro-"

Sean was abruptly cut off by D's fist making contact with his mouth. To her disappointment he only rocked back on his heels slightly, though she noted with a burst of vindictive pleasure, she'd actually managed to dislocate his jaw. Sean merely whacked the crooked side of his mouth wincing slightly as the joints slid back into place, looking as though he did that sort of thing every day. He took a moment to spit blood laced saliva into his trashcan before looking at her again. "Would you care to tell me what I did to deserve that?" he asked quietly, as the rest of the office stared.

D didn't even deign to answer, just smacked the file on his desk. Sean glanced at the file, then did a double take at the stamp. "Are you stupid?!" he snarled, "you could get thrown in a cell just for touching that!"

D growled opening the file and shoving it in his face, so he could see the subject. "You lied to me you bastard!" she snapped furiously. Sean sat down so that he could actually see the words in the file as opposed to a black and white blur. Immediately he shot back up this time out of shock, it was his rap sheet, but how... suddenly the thought came to him and the world turned red, "That son of a bitch," he breathed.

"You're insane," D said furiously, "That's what it says here."

Sean was practically trembling with rage, "Oh trust me I'm definitely getting there," he muttered.

"And," D continued ignoring Sean's mumbling, "You're a murderer."

Sean looked up, D noted with shock, that his eyes had turned from their usual hazel to vivid red, they almost seemed to be boiling with rage like pools of molten rock. Sean's face in contrast to his eyes was a mask of self control... one that was rapidly cracking, "Actually I'm not a murderer," he said tightly as he made his way to the door, "But hold that thought, 'cause in a few minutes I will be!!" With that statement he walked out of the office with the file slamming the door behind him. D noticed he'd left a visible palm-print on the door knob, a few seconds later she realized it wasn't a palm-print, it was a dent.

Ryder walked into General Hakuro's office, slammed the door shut, and promptly lost any semblance of control he may have had up to this point. "You fucking son of a bitch! I ought to rip your fucking guts out right through your lying mouth!" The furious assassin raged.

Hakuro looked up calmly, "Captain Ryder, I have no idea what you're-"

"BULLSHIT!!!" Ryder screamed, smashing his fist into Hakuro's desk hard enough to send a spiderweb of cracks across its surface. The assassin glared wildly at Hakuro through red eyes, his face the very picture of fury, "Why'd you do it ya two-faced bastard huh?" he snarled. "Oooooohh wait a minute I get it," he said in a voice of mock discovery. "Sean and Bill went up the hill to shoot up some Ishvallans," Ryder sang insanely, "Sean fell down and broke his crown, and guess what? He's still cracked! Surpriiiiiiiiiiiise!!" Ryder laughed, more than a touch of madness in his voice.

Hakuro swallowed nervously slowly pulling a revolver from his desk drawer, looks like they'd been right, Ryder _was_ nuts. Next thing he knew he was pinned to the wall of his office by his throat and gun hand, Ryder released Hakuro's gun hand just long enough to jab his thumb into a pressure point, the revolver dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers. "Now now General," Ryder said in the tone of voice one used with small children or the mentally retarded, "We don't want to play with those sorts of toys do we? We might hurt ourselves, and Fuhrer Bradley would have_such_ a stick up his ass if that happened. Now are we going to behave ourselves?"

Hakuro nodded, not having enough air to speak, Ryder dragged him back to his desk and unceremoniously dropped him in his seat. "Who else was involved?" Ryder asked in a more normal though still pissed off tone of voice.

"Nobody-"

Hakuro was hauled to his feet again, and his vision filled with the blade of a combat knife, "How would you like me to start cutting off body parts?" Ryder growled, "Now who else was there?"

"I can't-"

"WHO ELSE!!"

"McDonnell!" Hakuro shouted as the knife jabbed towards his eye, "General McDonnell..."

The assassin nodded allowing Hakuro to drop and resheathing his knife, "Well he'll be taken care of." Hakuro winced, knowing he had just signed the other man's death warrant. Ryder sat down on the chair in front of Hakuro's desk and glanced at the photo of Hakuro's family. "Well," Ryder said calmly, "I won't kill you, but don't think it's cause I like you, it's because your family doesn't deserve to lose a loved just because he happens to be scum, that's the only reason." Ryder leaned forward drumming his fingers on the desk, "Let me make something very clear to you," the assassin continued, "Once you let me out of prison you lost any control over me you might have had before. Up to this point I've been cooperating with you because it suited me... but make no mistake, I'm the one who's in control. And just because I'm not going to kill you doesn't mean I can't make your life so fucking miserable you'll wish you were dead... Now we are going to walk out of here together, we are going back to Colonel Mustang's office, I am going to tell them everything, and you are going to give the evidence to back me up. Am I making myself abundantly clear?"

Hakuro shifted slightly, "What exactly are you planning on doing if I don't cooperate?"

Ryder's eyes scanned Hakuro's desk before settling on a convenient paperweight. He picked it up and hefted it, testing it's weight, "First," he said, "I will shove this so far up your ass you'll need a dentist to remove it. Then I'll come up with a new and painful method of castration, and test it on you. After that I'll... get creative."

Hakuro nodded trying not to think about what exactly 'creative' meant, "Alright you win."

Ryder stood up and grinned "Glad you see it my way," he held the door open and motioned out, "After you _Mon Général_."


	18. In The Beginning

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA

* * *

Sean, Hakuro, and a new addition to their little group, Colonel Lagrin walked into Mustang's office. Sean immediately found himself the target of an enormous number of looks, ranging from irritated to downright homicidal. The Mustang's entire crew was there , including Ed, he must have arrived in the time Sean had been making death threats to Hakuro. Over the two months Sean had been here he'd become closest with Ed and D, and so was receiving the majority of the murderous looks from them. Sean silently picked up the chair from his desk, and moved it to the center of the room, where no one would have to put themselves in an uncomfortable position to see him. Once in a convenient location he sat down and began to speak.

"Well," he began quietly, "You all have eyes, ears, and brains in your heads among other things, so you've probably realized I've been keeping something fairly big from you, I'm going to tell you what it is. General Hakuro is here to offer the evidence gathered by the military in this. Colonel Lagrin is here because... there's a part of this story I have no desire to remember, however he saw enough to be able to tell you that part... and seeing as it's more or less the most important part, you should hear it."

"Aren't you even going to mention the crimes you've committed?!" Ed snarled, "Do you even care?!"

Sean tapped his fingers on the table and sighed. "Let me see if I remember this right..." he replied carelessly, "My rap sheet pronounced me guilty of something like forty murders, and said I suffered from antisocial disorder and psychopathy." Sean smiled slightly here, "I've gotta say I'm relieved to hear you ask that question 'cause if you believed the report you wouldn't have to. I am not a psychopath, antisocial probably, but I am not a psychopath, my shrink didn't like me very is all. As for the murders, Hakuro can help you with that one."

"Five years ago," Hakuro began, "Captain Ryder was the subject of a massive cover-up. At the time there were a lot of deaths within the military, some were suicides but it was suspected there was a serial killer on the loose, High Command needed Ryder to disappear, so deaths were tacked onto his record... All of the deaths the serial killer was suspected of causing in fact, Ryder went to prison and disappeared, and within a few weeks we had figured out the killers location and had him eliminated.

"Why," Mustang spoke up, "would High Command care about Ryder? He was twelve at the time!"

Sean grimaced, "Ah well that's a story... I could tell you right off exactly the problem is, but without background it won't make a lot of sense, so I'll start at the beginning."

* * *

I heard a story once, a man went to war, he saw things that made his blood run cold, he discovered horrors he'd never even imagined before. And somehow the man survived, he returned home, and a few months later he was found dead with his revolver in his mouth, he survived the war but the scars killed him. This is more or less a story about scars, how I got mine, where they're from.

I said I'd start at the beginning and I wasn't kidding, my Mom was a first generation Drachman immigrant... more like escapee actually, she climbed over a fucking mountain-range just to get to Amestris, because Amestris may not be the most popular country but it's still a free country. She joined the State Military and eventually became a member of Special Ops, though after she became pregnant she managed to get transferred to a reserve unit. My father was Ishvallan, I never met him he was killed in an accident a few days after I was born.

I was born in a town called Transium, it was about the size of Dublith if you're familiar with that place, it was also only eighty miles from the Ishvallan border. I've never been... what's considered normal, I've always been... too smart for my own good. Some people would call me a genius, I just called myself determined. I started reading at two, insane I know, by three I was reading full length novels, at four I was reading college textbooks and learning languages. My Mom saw I had the potential to go places, and she was adamant that I wouldn't waste it. She had me studying everything I could get my hands on, and I loved every minute of it. Mom wanted me to know about and be proud of my heritage on both sides, I discovered a talent for languages, I became fluent in both Drachman and Ishvallan in just under a year, down to the accents.

I also found a talent and love for the sciences... of a less concrete nature; psychology, sociology, philosophy, all at five years old. Hah! I memorized the concepts and thought I understood, but I was just chanting catechisms. Not until much later did I even begin to comprehend them, but that's another story. I had talent in the physical sciences too, but I didn't like them as much, mainly because math was involved... I loath math, just looking at an equation makes my blood pressure spike, and that has never changed. My Mom would tease me endlessly about it, for awhile I was fairly happy.

What I didn't think about was what was going on at the time, the Ishvallan War. When I was six my Mom was shipped out, I never found out where she went, all I know was that she went MIA a year later in 1905 and she hasn't been heard from since. I believed she was sent to Ishval, and so I began to follow the news coming out. Like I said I was a pretty smart kid so I realized when the news got worse. About four months after my Mom shipped out, I stopped following the news from Ishval out of necessity, that's where the real story begins.


	19. I Come Not To Bring Peace But A Sword

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA

* * *

Sean opened his eyes slowly, wincing at the suns harsh glare. What had happened? And why was he lying on the ground?... Right, the attack, someone had hit the town last night. Slowly he stood, crying out as pain shot through his six year old frame. He didn't understand, why did everything hurt so much? Sean began to walk through the town, or what was left of it, doing his best to ignore the pain from his protesting body. The buildings looked like skeletons, stripped of flesh, bones charred black by flame. Those few structures untouched by the fire that swept through the town were worse, the dark windows and shattered panes reminded the boy of empty eye sockets, quietly, weakly, the child cursed himself for reading horror stories.

To Sean, like most boys his age, war was a game. Something mysterious and interesting, a way for every boy to be a hero. Sean turned a corner, and all that changed for him forever. Bodies, bodies everywhere. They hung from shattered windows, and were piled on the ground like garbage. They were impaled on jagged twisted steel beams, and draped over the blackened frames of houses. Shot, stabbed, burned, mutilated, the corpses piled high in mountains straight from the depths of hell. Crows and vultures picked over the piles, one went for a corpse's eye and Sean finally threw up. A crow looked up at him, black eye gleaming coldly like a chip of obsidian. Sean felt a moment of true fear, what if the birds attacked? His overactive imagination produced the image of a mountain of birds, seething like a pile of black maggots as they fought for his eyes and the last bloody rags of flesh. Sean felt the flesh on his back crawl, he was suddenly aware of his body, the way one is aware of clothing when one first puts it on. His limbs were like lead weights, his scalp felt too small to contain his skull. Each breath was like lifting a steel bar with only his chest, and his heart echoed in his ears racing like a trip hammer.

The crow looke back down and the spell was broken. Sean felt his breath coming in huge gasps, and his body was drenched in cold sweat. He turned and ran, there was something supernatural, evil, about that place, and he would run from it until his heart exploded. He never managed to run that long, because a few blocks down he ran into something, something much softer than a wall. Sean tried to dodge around the obstruction, but a hand reached out and grabbed his shoulder.

"Hey where are you going?" A female voice said roughly, though not unkindly. The woman, whoever it was must have noticed his tears, because when she spoke again it was gently, "Hey it's alright, you're gonna be okay." She pulled him close and Sean sobbed uncontrollably, he felt something hard on her hip digging into his shoulder, but he didn't care. She was alive, and she wouldn't hurt him, he was safe.

* * *

The woman's name was Amber Jenkins, she was actually sixteen and had playfully whacked Sean upside the head for calling her 'Miss' telling him not to make her feel old. She had begun to tell him about the guerrilla band she was part of, when her partner arrived from roughly the same direction Sean had been running from.

The teen looked a little green around the gills, as he spoke to Amber, "Whoever it was who hit this place was really sick, I just came from the center of town and whoever wasn't shot down in the streets was gathered up and killed there.... Some of the bodies were too smal to be adults."

"Josh!" Amber snapped angrily.

"Those sick bastards shot kids?!" Sean yelled.

"Oh damn, me and my big mouth," Josh muttered.

"Yeah and if it didn't come outta your mouth it would've come outta your ass," Amber growled, "You should be ashamed of yourself, talking like that around little kids."

Sean shot to his feet all fear forgotten in his indignation, "I'm not a little kid! I'm six!"

Both teenagers stopped in the middle of their argument to regard the irritated child with looks of amusement. "I'm sorry Sean," Amber said struggling not to giggle, "I shouldn't have called you that, you're obviously a very mature and erm-" here she looked over his much smaller than average body, "-big kid."

"Hey kid," Josh said, "Amber and I have to talk about something real quick, you mind?"

Sean shook his head, and then promptly did his best to eavesdrop on his new friends whispered conversation. Unfortunately he didn't hear much of it, he caught brief words and phrases, like; "just a kid" and "Grady" whatever that was.

Josh came back over as Amber began to pack up the pair's supplies, "Hey you want to come with us kid?" When Sean nodded eagerly, Josh lifted a finger in warning, "You have to know it's going to be hard and dangerous, you might go hungry a lot, you might even get hurt, you sure you still want to come?" Sean nodded again this time more soberly. Josh grinned and took his hand as they began to move out of the city.

Eventually they walked into a crowded campsite, there were shouts of greeting, clanging as people worked on rusted old cars and trucks, and crashes and bangs as heavy boxes and crates were dropped into place. Eventually Amber and Josh came to a group of tents around one fire that must have been their territory so to speak. It certainly seemed to be where all their best friends were. Suddenly Sean found himself the center of attention, as questions and conversation and jokes flew around his head in bewildering spirals. Sometimes the conversation was just too mixed up to understand. Sometimes the contents were what was confusing. A female mechanic grinned at Sean and said, "Cute aren'cha, you're gonna be a real lady-killer when you get older."

Sean scrunched up his face in confusion, "Why would I kill ladies?" he asked.

For some reason that question seemed to evoke more laughter than anything else that had been said. Suddenly though the laughter went from uproarious to silent like a plug had been pulled. A big man with short gray hair and a cold scarred face walked into the circle, "I don't remember becoming an orphanage," he said quietly. Sean shifted uncomfortably and stared at the man, the man couldn't have been more threatining if he pulled out a gun.

Amber stood up, "Grady I can explain-"

"Shut up," Grady snapped, "I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses." He glared directly at Sean, "You brat, what can you do? You can stay with us, but you only eat if you work."

Sean fumbled for an answer, he knew all his academic studies wouldn't help him now, "I learn fast," he said timidly.

Grady nodded his face giving away nothing, "Well we'll have to see about that, well if you learn fast then Jason can teach you his stuff."

"Grady wait!" Amber said frantically.

Grady turned and walked away, "I've made up my mind girlie, the brat can sink or swim, his choice."

Sean looked at Amber fearfully, "Is Jason a bad guy?"

Amber shook her head grimly, "No he's a nice guy, but he's got a bad job."


	20. Teaching The Puppy New Tricks

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA

* * *

Here Roy decided to break in, "So let me get this straight, you're half Ishvallan. You lived in Transium 'til you were six, then the town was wiped out. After that you joined a guerrilla group."

Sean nodded, "Exactly."

"So who did it?" Ed asked curiously, "Destroyed the town I mean?"

Sean shrugged, "Dunno."

Hakuro sighed, "For someone who claims to be a genius you certainly know how to sound like an uneducated moron."

Sean raised an eyebrow, "You want me to sound educated? Fine then, f_ututum si teneo._"

"Huh?"

Sean gave a smirk every bit as obnoxious as Roy Mustang at his worst, "It's Xerxesian, means 'fucked if I know,' ah well everything sounds better in Xerxesian huh?"

Hakuro growled, "Just get on with the story dammit!"

"Right the story..."

* * *

The next morning Amber, whom Sean had virtually attached himself to, took him to meet Jason. Jason was about five foot six and built like a tank, with a gray buzz-cut and permanent laugh lines inlaid into his face, this was a man who saw no reason to take the world or anything in it seriously.

"Ah Amber," he boomed jovially, making Sean jump in fright, "I see you've brought my newest victim!"

Amber smiled, "Yeah this is Sean, try not to scare him too much," she turned to Sean, "Don't worry about Jason, he might seem scary at first but he's a funny guy."

Sean nodded a bit fearfully, and promptly felt his knees buckle as a huge hand clapped his shoulder, "Don't worry about a thing Amber!" Jason grinned, "He'll be safe with me!" Jason led an increasingly nervous Sean away, as Sean looked back at Amber distraughtly. To his disappointment she simply waved and walked away. "Don't worry kid, you'll be fine," Jason said confidently, "Ahh but I miss the good old days, this would have never happened then!"

Sean was curious despite himself, "What were the good old days like?"

Jason looked delighted to be asked, "Oh the good old days were wonderful and prosperous!" he boomed, Sean was beginning to notice the only volumes Jason had were loud and louder. "Yes the good old days," Jason continued, "When the men were men, and the women were women, and the furry little animals were furry little animals!"

Sean stared for a moment before pointing a finger at Jason accusingly, "You're crazy!"

Jason seemed to swell with pride, "And you're a very bright young man, most people don't figure it out that fast. But," he continued, booming once more, "Onwards and upwards! Come there is work that needs ignoring and laziness which needs doing!"

Sean followed as fast as he could trying to decipher his strange new teacher's latest sentence.

* * *

Sean carefully, delicately almost, slotted the last wire into place, then lifted his creation proudly. It was an odd looking thing, a pair of oblong one foot long chemical tanks bound together with electrical tape. Connected to those with an electrically operated valve was another tank for the chemicals to mix in. Taped to the top and bottom of the contraption were a pair of batteries each with a radio receiver connected to it. One battery was wired to the electric valve, the other wired directly to the mixing tank.

Jason smiled, "Nicely done kiddo, simple yet elegant. There's no way this thing will go off prematurely, the substances have to mix before this thing is actually dangerous. Even if the the second battery sparked prematurely it wouldn't go off. Chances of both batteries sparking on their own, and in the right order are about a million to one. Not real big but it doesn't have to be, this baby will take out a good sized apartment building if you place it properly, it'll block off a road easy, or clear one for that matter. So just a word of advice kiddo, never hit the first switch until you're a good ways away from this thing.

Sean stared at the thing, "Okay but, what is it?"

Jason grin got even bigger, "Why kiddo you just built your first bomb."

* * *

Months passed and the band moved all over the East, stopping here and there for food, water, supplies. Sean learned his new trade with voracity that was almost frightening. He began to make his own designs, creating compression bombs, explosives surrounding two compounds that when mixed would become volatile but which they didn't have the proper heat and pressure to make into bombs. The makeshift explosives he used did the trick, Sean's compression bombs demolished areas the size of city blocks, clearing debris fields in seconds that would normally take hours. Sean also began to work on cars and trucks in his spare time, it became normal to see him with one hand buried in an engine, the other flipping through a chemistry book. Sean also began to change physically, as he got used to the tough, challenging life of the guerrillas, what baby fat he had left fell away to be replaced by tough sinewy muscle. Grady was mostly indifferent, the most praise he ever gave, a grunt.

But Sean could've cared less, Jason was proud of his work, as were Amber and Josh though they worried about him endlessly. Amber and Josh had become more or less surrogate siblings to him, teaching him everything important about being a teen, which mostly consisted of fashion tips from Amber (which were ignored), and flirting tips from Josh (which were not). Despite everything that had happened Sean was still fairly naive and innocent. That was shortly to change, as the band passed through the Meat Grinder.

* * *

This is Latin but it means exactly what I said


	21. Unlocking the Destroyer

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA

* * *

The Meat Grinder was appropriately named, it was, not to put too fine a point on it, a massive killing field. At one point it had been the area in the East with the highest population density, with an average of a town or village for every five or so square miles. Now, thanks to the abundance of supplies that naturally comes with such a populous area, it was the place where guerrilla bands were most likely to collide, with deadly results. There was always someone fighting in the Meat Grinder, no matter where you went you could hear the sounds of gunfire, and the sky was always filled with clouds of circling birds, nature's undertakers, it was in a word terrifying.

Sean walked through this apocalyptic wasteland staring in disgust. It was hot, so hot he could actually feel a build-up of salt on his face as his sweat evaporated. And the smell, it was like walking through an abandoned slaughterhouse, one that no one had ever bothered to clean out. He heard a trickle of water and immediately began to look for the source. Suddenly he caught the gleam of light on liquid and leapt forward thrusting his hands into the stream to splash his face clean. Only to jerk his hands back out with a yell of surprise and revulsion, his hands were dripping with red.

Amber looked over and saw the cause of his yell, "It's probably flowing from the center of the Grinder," she commented, "Any stream that comes from the center is always like that." She gave him a rag to wipe his hands on, "Try not to drink any water from here."

Sean stared at his hands, or rather the bloody water that dripped from them sluggishly. For reasons he couldn't put into words it made him uneasy, and not because of what made the water red. He had a strange feeling, if he had known the word he would have said it was like precognition. However Sean had always studied hard scientific fact, and had never come across the word before. But nevertheless as he stared at the red drops falling from his fingers, he almost felt like he'd seen it before, or that he'd see it again. It was a vaguely disturbing feeling, like all the hair on his body was standing on end at once, he didn't like it.

As the day went on, and the temperatures rose, the stench of death got thicker and thicker, until it was almost like a physical barrier. Several guerrillas passed out through the combined efforts of the reek and the intense heat. Sean had taken to sniffing gasoline at intervals, Amber had caught him doing it at camp once and told him not to since it was unhealthy, but the feeling it gave him helped him ignore the other smells, and also kept him from ejecting his guts through his mouth.

As Sean was putting the cap back on a gas can, he heard a funny noise like a squelch from beside him. Glancing over he saw a man standing next to him, there was something wrong with him. Sean couldn't figure out what it was but something was wrong, later Sean would realize that there are certain things which are so fundamentally wrong, that when you see them for the first time the brain simply refuses to process it. Sean was spared further confusion when the man's mangled brains fell out of the massive exit wound which had replaced the back of his head. Sean felt his jaw drop, as his brain told him to throw up, run the fuck away, and scream at the same time. As he stood there trying to make sense out of the jumbled mess his mind had turned into, someone snatched the gas can from his hand lit it on fire and threw it, turning it into a makeshift grenade. At that point a fourth part of Sean's mind, namely I'm Stoned came into play, indignantly demanding that he yell at that guy for taking his gas. The 'whump' sound the can made as it exploded and the whistling sound of shards of steel slicing through the air however caused Sean to make up his mind, he settled on the fifth part of his brain which had just spoken up, 'Get behind something you fucking moron,' Common Sense said to him irritably. Sean decided Common Sense was a pretty bright guy and ducked behind a man firing a submachine gun from the hip... who immediately took three bullets in the chest and collapsed. 'Something less likely to die, screwball,' Common Sense sighed, Sean dived behind a jagged broken wall joining a number of other guerrillas, who were taking turns popping up from behind it to shoot at their attackers.

'Very good,' Common Sense said patronizingly, 'now if you can just avoid standing up while bullets are flying through the air you might make it out of this.' Sean mused that Common Sense was actually an annoying smug bastard, then he wondered if he was crazy, 'Yeah you're nuts,' I'm Stoned commented, 'but it's all good,'

"Oh will you fuck off," Sean moaned, "My life is complicated enough without you bastards."

"Damn straight kid!" A guerrilla next to him said. Sean sat there a moment trying to figure what the guerrilla was talking about, then he remembered, 'Right, people shooting at us...' Grady walked by inspecting the lines, barely looking at Sean he tossed something metallic in his direction. Sean snatched from the air without thinking, then inspected the object. It was a fully loaded forty-four magnum revolver, Sean stared at it a moment wondering what he was supposed to do with it, then he figured it out and immediately shook his vehemently, he liked his brains right where they were thank you very much.

A few minutes later Grady passed by again, he immediately noticed the still-loaded revolver, he came over crouching next to the child, "You haven't fired yet," he stated.

Sean swallowed nervously, "N-no sir."

Grady gave him a scornful look, "I can see you need instructions, I'll make it easy for you, on one you will stand up, on two you will aim, on three you will pull that trigger, are we clear?.... One..."

Sean sat there staring at Grady in fear, suddenly he felt something cold pressed to his temple. "Don't think I won't do it," Grady said softly, coldly, "Now let's try this again shall we? One..."

Sean stood feeling as though his heart was about to pound it's way out of his chest.

"Two..."

Sean raised the revolver certain any moment he would feel hot lead rip through his body.

"Three..."

Sean closed his eyes tightly and pulled the trigger once, twice, a third time each time the gun roared and bucked in his hands. He opened his eyes and stared out at the field unsure whether he'd hit anything or not. At that moment as he stood there wondering a massive bullet whizzed past him ripping the head from the man standing next to him. On instinct Sean turned at pointed his revolver at the glint of the scope some fifty yards away, and pulled the trigger. The sniper made no more shots, after the battle the guerrillas went around the field collecting weapons and supplies from dead enemies. One man found a dead sniper fifty-seven yards from their position, the scope of his rifle was shattered and the side of his head torn of by a forty-four slug, the guerrilla shrugged and moved on.


	22. Beginning Of The End

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA

* * *

Sean continued through his story doggedly. Every memory gushed out like blood from a wound. And just as Sean would with an injury he did his best to hide the pain, it showed anyway. Reliving the Rebellion, telling people about his experiences was painful, agonizing, and necessary. It was like pulling rotted teeth from gangrenous tissue, every second was an experience of harrowing misery, but he'd be healthier for it later.

So Sean told them everything, he told them how he was handed a scoped rifle and told he would be a sniper. He told them how amazing it was, almost godlike, to rain death from on high. How he had compared himself to a storm god, making lightning and thunder, and raining hot lead. And he told how miserable he was afterwards believing with every shot he was damning himself to hell, knowing he deserved it. He told them the stories behind every last scar, in all their gruesome detail. How disgusted with himself he was, when he held a man's face in gasoline, and yet how the action had been thrilling in a way.

Sean told about the time a guerrilla had found a bottle of whiskey in an old house and drunk it. Only to realize later that the whiskey had powdered glass in it, the guerrilla died shrieking as his guts were shredded from the inside. Then there was when Jason's luck finally ran out, a bomb exploded while he was working on it, all they ever found was one of his boots, foot still inside. Tripwire bombs, stake pits, exploding cars, a million accidents and booby traps whittled the guerrilla's numbers away bit by bit. And all the time more came to replace them.

Finally Sean told how he shot Josh in the head to spare him a long agonizing death. Then how he remained in the same place for hours pinned down by enemy fire, talking to the walls, himself, and finally screaming at the corpse to _stop staring at him it wasn't his fault._

_

* * *

_Sean was ten years old, he had been at war for over three years, and it had been a month since he'd murdered Josh. Everyone said he'd done the right thing but it was murder just the same. He just wished Josh wouldn't stare at him so much, it was driving him crazy. Or maybe he already was crazy, that was always a possibility. Sean didn't realize but his mind was teetering closely on the brink of true insanity, he ate little and slept even less. He would be gone from camp for hours at a time and when he came back would be unable to say where he'd been, more often than not after these excursions his rifle's barrel was hot. In contrast to his timid attitude before over the past few years he had slowly become irritable, aggressive, and bitter. However in the month since Josh's death his aggression had increased sharply, no one would have believed before that a ten year old could reduce battle hardened guerrillas to tears, but Sean found it remarkably easy with many. Amber and Grady were the only ones he never raged at or insulted. Amber was as good as his sister and he would never do anything intentionally to hurt her. And as for Grady, well, Sean suspected if he mouthed off to Grady the cold man would simply shoot him.

This particular day, Sean was leading a scouting mission. Carefully they stepped through the rubble surrounding them, well aware that any chunk of broken concrete or fallen brick could trigger an explosion. The explosion they were worried about came from considerably farther away than they were expecting. It propelled a bullet directly through a scout's head. The rest of the guerrillas didn't miss a beat, simply dived behind whatever rubble looked convenient. One man sprung a booby trap, and a sharpened bit of rebar sprouted from his chest ending any contribution he might have made to the fight. Sean growled under his breath, these ambushes were coming much more often than normal of late, and he was beginning to wonder about that.

"Fuck this!" he snarled angrily, "Waste those sons of bitches but make sure to take a few prisoners!"

The guerrillas responded enthusiastically, some literally ripping their enemies apart with combined fire. In all the fight lasted only a few minutes, but Sean had still lost four men and he was pissed.

He walked up to one of the three prisoners they'd taken, "How do you bastards keep finding us?" he snapped, "What's your source?" The man didn't even deign to reply merely contenting himself with spitting in Sean's direction. Sean sighed irritably, "I don't have time for this bullshit," that said he whipped out his well used .44 revolver and blew the man's left kneecap off. Once the man stopped screaming Sean leaned over him, "What. Is. Your. Source?"

The prisoner's breath came in gasps but he still managed defiance, "Fuck you."

Sean shrugged, "I don't swing that way, thanks for the offer though," the revolver banged again ripping off the man's other kneecap, "Spill it."

Again the man screamed in pain but still managed to get words out, "Rot in hell!"

Again Sean sighed in irritation, did this have to be so difficult? "You first," Sean pulled the trigger a third time and the man's brains splattered on the ground. "Now," Sean said loudly in imitation of a gameshow host, "Who's next? Aha! A volunteer! Congratulations! You're the next contestant on warzone trivia! Answer wrong and I'll fuck you up with a .44 magnum! Balls go first, you know the question what's your answer?"

The man practically fell over himself trying to give Sean the information he wanted. Once Sean and the other scouts figured out what the man was saying they froze.

"Do you think he's telling the truth?" One of the scouts said shakily.

Another guerrilla responded just as nervously, "No other way he could know that name, Sean? What now?"

Sean's grip on his gun tightened in anger, "Knock these guys out, tie 'em up and dump 'em. We're going back to camp to settle a few things."


	23. Coup D'état

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA

* * *

Sean marched into camp furiously, slotting rounds into his revolver, hoping with everything he had that he would be given an excuse to use it. He was stopped by Rickov, his immediate supervisor\, the man he was supposed to report to.

"Ryder," Rickov sneered, "You're late, where do you think you're going? You know you have to report to me before anything else."

Sean gave the weaselly looking man a glare, "Don't fuck with me Rickov I'm not in the mood, where's Grady?"

Rickov's sneer got even bigger, Sean had often wondered whether this was possible, "Report first brat!"

Sean brought his gun under Rickov's chin and cocked it, "I'm not in the mood Rickov, get me? They aren't either." At this the recon team coaxed as many menacing and metallic noises from their weapons as they could.

Rickov's eyes widened, and the sneer Sean had always been sure was permanent dropped from his face, "This is insane! You're loyalties lie with Ryder? He's a ten year old brat!"

One of the guerrillas spoke up, "Maybe he is a brat, but he's also a tactical genius. Not only that, he watches out for us, he's gotten us out of more scrapes than you could even imagine, I'd follow this brat before anyone else any day." The rest of the team nodded in agreement.

"So what'll it be Rickov?" Sean asked, "You really want to get shot over something this stupid? Where's Grady?" Rickov pointed with one trembling finger towards the salvaged tent that served for a mess hall. Sean nodded, "Very good... maybe I should shoot you anyway..." At this Rickov went rigid in fear, Sean laughed bitterly letting his revolver fall, "You aren't worth the bullet, hell you aren't worth the air you're breathing. But air's free, bullets'll be a valuable commodity soon." Sean glanced scornfully at the rapidly growing dark patch on Rickov's pants, "Better go clean yourself up, you already smell like a cesspool, you don't need any help." With that Sean and his team walked off towards the mess tent leaving a trembling Rickov in their wake.

Sean burst into the mess hall with his loyal contingent following him, rifles cocked and loaded. Sean felt an absurd urge to yell 'This is a stickup!' but he pushed it off with a faint smile, he had more important things to do. Grady turned to regard the group with a calculating eye, just that was enough to make most of the guerrillas wilt. Sean merely stood there, normally he would have felt fear, but anger and bravado suppressed his usual instincts, and his just barely held at bay insanity destroyed any semblance of the self-preservation that should have made him terrified of this man. Grady was a sociopath, Sean was well aware of this. Sean knew that he acted like an asshole more often than not, knew that he had inflicted horrible pain on other people without a second thought, but there was always a reason for the pain. Grady on the other hand... Sean had seen the man kill someone by sodomizing him with a length of rebar, grinning while he did it. And that was just one incident, Grady was quite creative with his ways a of making people suffer, Sean had longed for awhile to kill him, but he could never summon the courage, now he'd found his source.

"So Grady," Sean said casually, "How much'd they pay you?"

There was a burst of murmuring throughout the tent, before Grady replied straight-faced, "I don't know what you're talking about brat. You get into someone's liquor again?"

The murmuring continued getting louder, until Sean shouted, "Shut up! You want to know what's going on?! I'll tell you, we are surrounded! By a group triple our size! They have more weapons and better vehicles than we do! They have rockets! They have armed jeeps! They even have anti-tank guns! We found a scouting team from that group this morning, and we took prisoners! And after some... persuasion they gave us information! Someone in our group sold us out! And that someone.... is Grady!" Sean turned back to Grady, "So I repeat, What'd they offer?"

Grady stood up, and cracked his neck, "Money, a girl, leadership of their group, you know the usual. And what do you plan on doing about it? You think you can kill me, or do you plan to have someone else do it? You know they're to scared to do it." Grady walked close grabbed Sean's gun hand and pressed the barrel to his chest, looking over Sean's head smirking humorlessly "Go on, do it if you have the spine." Sean did nothing, Grady turned and began to walk away, "I didn't think so."

"Hey Grady!"

Grady turned back around, "What brat?" A bullet slammed into his throat.

Sean walked over to where Grady lay on the ground gurgling as he drowned in his own blood, "I usually kill people quickly, but someone like you... I want to watch you die in the most horrible ways I can think of, but I don't have time to do all those things, so I settled for this."

It took Grady a full five minutes to die. Once he went for his gun, but Sean shot him in the wrist and the expanding bullet tore his hand off. Once Grady finally stopped gasping for air, Sean looked up to find most of the camp staring at him, "Lock and load people," he said quietly, "We have a last stand to make."

Amber walked over to him, "I suppose you don't want to be around me anymore," Sean said to her.

Amber shook her head, "Actually I think you did the right thing... Do you really think this will be our last stand?"

Sean looked over at her, how desperate she looked, and he thought he'd never loved his sister like he did now, so he lied, "No of course not, but always expect the worst, that way you won't be disappointed." He shrugged and gave a happy smile so false he wanted to scream, "Old habits die hard right?"


	24. Making A Stand

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA

* * *

Sean tore through the camp like a small hurricane, barking orders at every turn. Surprisingly people listened.

"Gather loose stones and bricks," he shouted, "I want walls and machine gun nests surrounding this camp! Move all the vehicles outside the perimeter and wire them! At least when the enemy arrives we can surprise them, I guarantee they won't see that coming," he muttered grimly.

Under Sean's direction, the camp was disassembled and fortifications began to take shape. A small hill of rubble near the middle of the camp turned into a sniper's lookout post. Any sharp bits of metal they could find were buried under precarious mountains of rubble, one false step would send the mountain toppling, and whatever unfortunate who happened to be on top plummeting towards rusty jagged metal. Doors were removed from both cars and the piles of rubble for makeshift barriers, they wouldn't stop bullets, but a lot of enemies wouldn't shoot at you if they couldn't see you. Makeshift landmines were placed, and machine guns were placed atop the small walls of rubble, the guerrillas began to fabricate. The camp was being slowly turned into a massive death trap.

Sean marched through the fortress looking like an undersized warlord, or a walking armory, sniper rifle slung over his shoulder revolver hanging from his hip, and a new addition, a submachine gun strapped to his chest. With every step he took he clanked loudly, under the weight of his guns and ammunition. Actually 'step' was a bit too generous a word for what he was doing. As fatigue and exhaustion slowly took hold he found himself stumbling a lot more often than 'stepping.' Still Sean continued on doggedly, he was stubborn, more so than was goo for him. Finally Amber became fed up, "You're going to get some sleep if I have to knock you out and drag you into a tent," she growled threateningly.

Sean recoiled despite himself and nodded, many things had changed since he first arrived, but Amber could still get him to do what she wanted. Sean staggered into his tent, and dumped his guns, he was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

* * *

Three scant hours later Sean lay atop a mountain of rubble staring through the scope of his rifle. Judging from the scouting reports he'd been right, the enemy was moving in on all sides.

"One hundred yards," a voice came over his radio, "Should we hit the trigger or-?"

"Not yet," Sean replied quickly, "Fifty yards, we blow all the cars at once, then we fire." Sean did a mental headcount, forty maybe fifty guerrillas. The enemy had at least three hundred. This was going to be a massacre. Slowly the enemy topped a small rise coming into view of the camp. There was no formation, and they didn't need one to make an impression, they literallyswarmed seemingly from nowhere. Sean's eyes widened, this couldn't be three hundred, it had to be at least double that, he'd been right, they were screwed. Closer, just a bit closer they were at eighty yards, just a little longer. The enemy guerrillas continued forward towards the fortress cautiously, eyeing the junked cars in suspicion. Seventy-five yards, only twenty-five to go, Sean looked down on the camp from his perch, unworried of missing anything, his spotter would warn him, if something was going wrong. He could see some people's trigger fingers were getting itchy, more than a few were sweating despite the fairly mild temperatures. He whispered into his radio telling his men to stay calm and above all, quiet. Sixty-five yards, the enemy still seemed nervous of the cars, as they should be, but there was no way around them , so they continued straight forward, this might actually work. Then at sixty yards it happened, someone panicked at hit his button, a car blew sky high, taking ten or twelve of the enemy with it. The marching hordes stopped short.

"Stupid dumbass motherfucker!" Sean snarled, practically spitting with rage, "Blow the rest!" He spat into his radio. "I hope I might that dickhead in the afterlife, so I can kick his ass," Sean muttered.

The cars went up in a cloud of smoke and flame, showering everything, with burning debris both metal and organic. Seconds later the perimeter of the tiny fortress appeared to catch fire, as machine guns opened up raking the enemy lines with a withering hail of lead. A grenade arced through the air and landed among the gunners, one of them picked it up and threw it back. The explosive detonated in midair only a second after he released it, not a yard away, turning the machine gun nest into a pool of blood and torn bodies. Sighting through his sniper rifle Sean pulled the trigger, watching with satisfaction as a man's lungs were blown out his back, by the kinetic force of the projectile. The enemy returned fire, bullets ripping through wood and flesh with equal ease. Though the fire was murderous, any one who got up to shoot made himself a target. Sean's spotter was having a blast to say the least.

"Enemy machine gunner, by the broken wall at four o' clock."

Crack, "Wasted," Sean replied smugly.

"Sonuva- grenadier, ten o' clock!" The spotter said frantically as a soldier cocked his hand back to throw an explosive.

Sean pivoted smoothly and put a bullet through the man's head the grenade fell and detonated in enemy lines. "Another one bites the dust," the sniper remarked.

The spotter turned and fired his weapon at an enemy guerrilla attempting to exploit a newly formed gap in their lines. The man fell clutching at his throat as blood bubbled between his fingers.

Sean nodded, "Nice save," he turned to his radio and shouted into it over the gunfire, "We've got a gap in the lines at five o' clock someone haul ass over there NOW!" Sean heard a whining sound and threw himself to the ground as bullets began to whiz overhead. "I think we've become a nuisance," he commented dryly.

"Apparently so, dammit! Enemy sniper six o'clock."

Sean turned around as rapidly as he could on his stomach, and saw... nothing. "What are you talking about?" Sean demanded irritably as he pumped a round into a machine gunner.

The spotter swore angrily, "He dived behind a wall, I can't see him anymore." The spotter pointed to indicate a narrow flame-blackened stretch of concrete about three feet wide.

Sean smirked humorlessly, "He'll have to do a lot better than that." With that he sent a bullet flying straight through the center of the wall, there was an explosion of blood and a scream before a body toppled out. "Saw his shadow," Sean explained shortly, "OK next."

The spotter simply stared down the hill. "Hey are you awake!" Sean demanded, then he saw what his spotter was staring at so intently, the enemy had reached the walls, and the battle had degenerated to close quarters combat. Guerrillas lashed out with knives, fists, gun butts, and fired their weapons in wild uncontrolled bursts. Sean exchanged his rifle for a submachine gun and ran down to join the melee.

He fired again and again and again. Bodies continued to fall, until the ground was a shifting treacherous mass of corpses, and everything underfoot was slick with blood. A man aimed a revolver at him, only to be blown away by superheated lead. Another charged him with a knife, Sean snapped the stock of his weapon forwards smashing the man in the face, then he brought the barrel back around laying the man's throat open with a tied on combat knife, his makeshift bayonet. His muscles screamed, his lungs burned, sweat ran into his eyes, and still he continued to kill, for hours, days, years, surely his whole life had been killing. Finally long having exchanged the empty submachine gun for his revolver, his gun clicked. Sean stared at it uncomprehendingly, something smashed into his head from behind and his world went black.


	25. Labyrinth

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA

* * *

"I woke up... sometime later," Sean said, "I'd been buried in a mass grave with everyone who didn't escape the battle. It took me.... a few hours to dig myself out. That was not particularly pleasant to say the least. The next few weeks I don't remember so well, they were... well a bit of a blur. Somewhere along the way I ate something that didn't exactly agree with me. By which I mean I was dying of poisoning in some form or other. I spent about two weeks running, or stumbling from house to house living off whatever I could find. I spent the night trying to sleep, but mostly trying to keep the rats and cockroaches from eating me alive." Sean shuddered here, "Hate those fucking things. Anyway eventually the poisoning made me to weak to move on. I just, sat there, so to speak, floating in and out of consciousness. But a few days later someone picked me up, that's why I'm alive."

Sean leaned back and lit a cigarette, he took a few puffs before continuing, "A little off topic here, but only a little. The Eastern Rebellion is the only reason I'm the person I am today. The thing you should find frightening is that my generation, the kids who are sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, are the future of this country. And we were all affected by the Rebellion whether we got involved or not. The Rebellion Generation learned something, intimidation, fear, violence, these are the methods of getting what you want. If someone pisses you off, kill him, he won't be doing it again. You want to know what Amestris will be like in ten, twenty years? Look at the alleys, the dumpsters, the train station walls, read what's been painted there. These are the prophecies of Amestris, because we are the future. Picture a man cowering on the ground with a gun to his head, _that_ is the future."

"Anyhow," Sean continued, briskly and cheerfully, "Moving on."

* * *

Sean woke up, lying on a bed. He was in a tiny room, where everything was a rather drab grey color. However, considering the last thing he remembered, he was lying in a puddle of lava, with monsters ripping out his throat, (something he decided had probably been a hallucination) he felt pretty good. Slowly Sean gave himself a once over, his old clothes were gone, probably a good thing, considering the condition they'd been in last. Instead he was wearing a pair of loose pants and a t-shirt, drab grey like everything else. He noticed he'd lost weight, much more than was healthy. His various bite wounds had healed, leaving small marks which were almost invisible amongst all his knife and burn scars.

Sean got out of bed standing up carefully, he felt pretty weak but otherwise fine. He glanced down at his feet, then around the room, no shoes, that was a bad sign. They, whoever they were didn't want him to go anywhere. He walked over to the door and examined it in minute detail. There was no knob on this side, but there was a slight gap between the jamb and the door itself, if he could just find something... Sean glanced at his bed and immediately noticed that the feet were on small sliders, flat ones to be precise. Trying to contain his excitement, Sean walked to the bed and slowly lifted one leg, removing the slider from the bottom. He let the frame fall and leaned back against the bed, giving himself a moment to recover. Then Sean got up and practically ran to the door, he stuck the slider between the jamb and the door, and swiped it down. The latch let go and with a click, the door swung open. Sean ran through and down the hall he found. At the end of the hall was, big surprise, another door. Sean tried it and found it unlocked, walking through he found himself in a room with two more doors one on the left, one on the right.

Which door? Sean glared at both, he opened the left door and found a bare metal staircase going down. Opening the other door he found a similar staircase leading in the opposite direction. Sean weighed his options for a moment than decided on the upwards staircase. If he ended up going above ground level he could always jump out a window. At the top of the staircase was yet another door, he rolled his eyes and walked through. Sean stared momentarily, the floor was covered in broken glass. Sean ran back down and went through the other door and down the staircase. He found at the end instead of a door was a turn and another staircase. The bare light-bulb above this one was dark, Sean hesitated peering down into the pitch black darkness below, he froze as he heard a faint rustling sound, then a squeak. Sean stared harder and caught a glimpse of beady red eyes, it was enough, he tore back up the staircase and slammed the door shut. He wasn't going anywhere near a rat. Sean went back up the stairs towards the room of glass. He took off his shirt, trying to ignore the way his ribs stood out against his skin. Tearing the shirt in half, he wrapped his feet in the pieces. Slowly he made his way across the room, wincing as the occasional glass shard made it through his makeshift foot wrappings.

Sean got to the other side and spared a moment to glance at his feet, the torn shirt was spotted here and there with blood, but it was nothing too serious. Sean glanced back at the glass, and the picked up a particularly large shard, it was as long as his hand and razor sharp. He leaned down and ripped another strip from his wrappings and wound it around the base of the shard, creating a knife of sorts. Sean continued on for what felt like hours, he crossed room after room, most empty a few had glass floors again, or other booby traps.

Finally Sean came upon another door and as he placed his hand on the knob he heard something from within, not a rustling, but a thumping as though there was something large inside. Gripping his glass knife a little tighter, Sean slowly turned the knob and opened the door. He stared at the contents of the room in nauseated terror. Inside was the biggest rat he'd ever seen, the thing must have been the size of a retriever. He began to shut the door but the thing charged him with one of those bursts of speed rats are so well known for. It's hideous mass slammed the door open and sent Sean flying backwards. Sean tried to sit up but the rat was on him in a second. It went for his face and he kicked it in the stomach, all the air left the rat's lungs in _whoosh_ but it kept coming. Sean desperately pushed at its throat as hard as he could, as its jaws moved closer and closer to his eyes. He could smell its reeking breath, and he caught a glimpse of a human finger wedged between two of its teeth. Somehow the sight of those remains of some poor unfortunate galvanized him, he could feel adrenaline race through his veins like liquid fire, and his mind which had been wild and gibbering with fear, was suddenly clear as a bell. He would not end up like that, some bit of flesh stuck between the teeth of an over-sized rodent. Grabbing his glass knife momentarily forgotten in the extremity of his terror, he pulled his arm back for extra impetus, and drove the knife forward into the enormous rodent's eye. There was a squelching sound as the eye was punctured, followed by a somehow sickening grating sound as the glass shard scraped on bone on its way to the brain. The rat shrieked convulsing wildly, then just as suddenly went still.

Sean dragged himself out from under the carcass, then got to his feet staring at the corpse in disgust, "Must be one of those chimeras alchemists always talk about," he muttered, "Why anyone would make one out of a rat is beyond me." He walked back into the room which had contained his late enemy and opened the door on the other side. He opened the door slowly wary of anymore unwelcome surprises. Inside stood a man of average height, with a messy thatch of black hair, in glasses and a white lab coat. Beside him stood a Xingese man who was glaring at the other man in apparent disgust, this man was also of average height, at least for an Amestrian, for someone of Xingese descent he was slightly taller than normal. He wore a very strange outfit, it looked almost like a kimono from Xing, but it was close fitting it was also black, kimonos even for men tended to be a bit more decorative than that. The Xingese man was bald with a graying goatee, there was a certain air about him that, unusually, made Sean almost immediately regard the man with respect. However despite how much more formidable the Xingese man appeared, the man in the lab coat was the first to speak.

"Congratulations," White Lab Coat said, "You have passed the first test with flying colors!"


	26. A Motivational Speech

Disclaimer: If I owned FMA don't you think my OC would actually be in it?

* * *

"Who the hell are you? And what the fuck do you mean test?" Sean spat furiously, "You mean you put me up against some giant rat thing to fucking test me? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"I am Doctor Franklin," The man replied calmly, "And yes it was all a test. I wanted to see how fast you would get through the maze, how resourceful you were, what your combat abilities are... and you were most impressive in all areas!" The doctor finished triumphantly.

The Xingese man growled at him before speaking in heavily accented Amestrian, "You send him against a chimera unarmed? I understand we need tough ones but only one in a thousand could survive that! Students need to be alive for me to teach them anything!"

Doctor Franklin gave the man a slightly patronizing look, "We _need_ that one person in a thousand, those are the only ones that will do."

"Care to tell me what in the fuck you're talking about?" Sean snapped, irritated at being ignored.

Doctor Franklin looked him over for a moment before speaking, "I apologize, I should not leave you in suspense. You have been through several years of war... what do you think of it?"

"Hate it," Sean replied almost before the doctor had finished speaking.

Doctor Franklin nodded thoughtfully, "So... if you could prevent a war... would you? What would you be willing to do for the sake of peace? Would you be willing to risk injury and death? Would you be willing to steal, blackmail, and extort? Would you be willing to intimidate, interrogate and torture? Would you be willing to kill... for the sake of peace?"

Sean hesitated, was it worth it? Was it morally right? It probably wasn't morally right... but it _was _worth it. "Yes I'd do it. Why are you asking me this?"

"Because," the doctor said, "I am giving you a unique opportunity, a chance to help end wars _before_ they begin. At times it will be unpleasant, perhaps even morally... ambiguous, but in the end it will serve the greater good. I'm giving you the chance, will you take it? Or not?"

Sean nodded, "I'll take it."

Doctor Franklin gave a smile which was for some reason rather eerie, "Good! I'll introduce you to your teacher," here he gestured to the Xingese man on his left, "This is Rong Shi, he will teach you everything you need to know."

Sean cocked his head to the side, "And you'll be doing...?"

The doctor's lips stretched into another grin, one that reminded Sean uncomfortably of a rabid dog, "Oh things..." With that Franklin left the room. Rong Shi shook his head muttering darkly to himself and motioned at Sean to follow. Sean followed Rong Shi down several twisting hallways until he found himself in a courtyard of sorts. A large outside space that was still within the facility. Sean looked around curiously, the thing that caught his attention was a table full of weapons. Some of them were familiar enough, others he knew in theory how they would function but making them do what he wanted would be a different story.

Rong Shi turned to face him, he spoke quietly but with such authority that Sean barely even considered questioning him, "We will begin your training immediately, however I will set ground rules. First of all, you may know my name but you have to earn the right to use it, until such time as you do, you will refer to me as 'Sensei'. Second, you will _not_ slack off on your training, you will do what I tell you, when I tell you." Rong Shi turned towards the table covered in weapons, he picked up a hand gun and held it out, "When a soldier begins his training in Xing he is handed his first gun and told that it is his life, without it he will die. You will not be a soldier, a soldier fights fairly, a soldier shoots when he is being shot at, a soldier follows orders, and when the war is over a soldier goes home. You will do none of these things, you will win at all costs, you will poison, and drug, and you will injure your opponent in a dozen tiny ways which will make him that much less of a threat. You will make preemptive strikes, you will infiltrate and destroy those who would hurt your nation, and you will execute those deserving. You will disobey orders constantly, you will get the job done no matter whose feet you step on. Your war will never be over, and so your home will be everywhere, and it will be nowhere, for you cannot afford attachment to people or things. You will be your nation's first and last line of defense, an instrument of destruction more precise and deadly than any artillery, and more subtle than an alchemist. This gun is simply one of your many tools, your mind, your motivation, and your reputation, these are your real weapons. Whatever title you work under will become infamous, for you will be efficient, ruthless, relentless, first however... you have to survive. Your weapon is not your life but it will save it, bear that in mind when you take it, for you it is a lifesaver, for everyone else it is an instrument of death, both these things deserve respect, remember that."

Sean took the gun carefully, and stared at it for a moment, it was... strange. The weapon itself was familiar, but it was like seeing it in a different light. He stood up straighter waiting for his training to begin.


End file.
